#doc looks at him with such... HUNGER

[uuuhshiny]

Vladimir Verevochkin in Double

He brakes

[k9wa]

⟁ PLUMMET. ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

⚠︎ mechanic!reader (but it isn’t really relevant), i saw boothill trailer and ran to google docs, gn reader (ma’am used once at the end) wc 1k.

“your bounty has been completed!”

boothill could feel the explosion of the ship, even from the distance he was and against the strong winds from his high speed fall. a rush of heat slapped him in the face, leaving a thorough hunger in his gut temporarily quelled.

“how would you like to land?”

the cyborg kept his hat fastened to his head with his palm against the top, eyes briefly glancing down to the city below he was slowly getting closer to plumetting down into.

“…good question.”

the ground was steadily approaching, even if it was gonna take him a solid second or two to actually reach it. he’d never tested if his body could withstand smacking against concrete from— give or take— six thousand feet in the air, but he had a small hunch today wasn’t the day to try his luck. becoming a blue splat on the pavement wasn’t exactly in the cards of his itinerary.

boothill’s eyes looked left, looked right, fingers twirling the rope on his belt. he doubted it’d do much to really help, but it was a start nonetheless. 

he eventually came up with an idea— a totally foolproof idea. loop his rope around one of the street lights when he got close enough, avoid hitting the ground, swing himself back up into the air, and land safe and sound on…wherever the hell he managed to land. hopefully on his feet. 

super simple, super easy. lightwork.

and so he eyed the ground, wrapping one end of his rope taught around his right palm, his left getting the momentum of the other end ready in a smooth swinging motion.

“c’mon now boothill,” he muttered to himself, voice thoroughly drowned out by the wind. “ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ repositionin’.”

he kept falling, getting closer, 

closer…

closer…

almost there…

boothill readied his hand to swing, but the motion quickly became unnecessary when something— or rather, someone— grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled upward with a shocked ‘muddle—!’ before he could test the success rate of his plan.

the cowboy snapped his head up, hat nearly tipping off his head. he was hung like a ragdoll from his arm, feet dangling down below him as his eyes met his apparent saviours—

of course.

boothill’s sharp teeth slowly shone in a wide grin, loud and scruffy laugh echoing into the still rather open air around him. because who else would it have been besides you, your brows slightly furrowed at him from the safety of your little hoverboard he remembered you tinkering with just a couple days ago.

“well fudge me!” he’d slap his knee if the position allowed. “look who it is— ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” 

boothill reached up for your other hand, you wordlessly met him halfway reaching down, leaving both of your fingers locking around the others wrist.

“swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

you shake your head with a sigh, hoverboard beginning a steady descent down. it was a little harder to balance with boothill weighing it down, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“you’re lucky,” you half scoff. “i’ve got a sixth sense for you being an idiot.”

boothill’s hearty laugh echoed out again, the wind whipping around you leaving his hair tousled and a little tangled. 

“ain’t that the fudgin’ truth,” he jostled your hand a little. he doubted he could really get adrenaline rushes anymore, but this was pretty damn close. “reckon i’d be flatter than a darn hotcake if it weren’t for yer timely intervention!” 

his feet touching the ground were a welcome stabilisation, though the cyborg made no move to release your hand— instead he actually broke into a quick sprint, barely giving you the time to pick up your board as he tugged you along.

“you got somewhere to be or somethin’?”

you asked, stumbling a bit before you got your footing to keep up. you were just so cute when you pretended to be all sore with him.

“you bet i do— somewhere that ain’t swarmin’ with those sorry IPC shirtbags!”

it was a fair point— a giant explosion in the sky of one of their own ships made quite the beacon for attention.

running with him wasn’t so bad, at least. his grip around your wrist was surprisingly gentle, and the smell of him filled your nose in the wind as you trailed behind. some citrus, maybe cedar, and an unmistakable lingering of those phosphorus tracer bullets he chewed on so often. 

you two dipped around a corner, backed against an old brick wall as some heavy footsteps kept running the other way. 

“say, remind me to get’cha a drink later,” boothill gave a small tug to your wrist again, bringing you just a little closer. “as a thanks for all them times y’saved my sorry behind.”

boothill smiled when you chuckled rather than shooing his hand away or giving a smart response.

“you’re gonna have quite the tab going.” you carefully repositioned your hand with his, your fingers lacing together rather than him just holding your wrist. boothill’s eyes could have turned into cartoonish hearts.

“tell ya what,” his hand gave yours a squeeze. “i know a place. it ain’t too far from here, won’t have to worry about no one botherin’ us,” it was quite endearing, the way his voice still held that gentle rasp even as it softened. “i start workin’ off that tab, get a night with you, and heck we’re both winnin’ ain’t we?” 

you hummed at that. it didn’t sound so bad.

“alright,” you nodded. “but let’s focus on you not having to gun down another dozen IPC workers first.”

it was your turn to pull him along with a swift tug of his wrist, resuming your sprint just in time to avoid some more heavy footsteps heading in your direction.

“you weren’t pullin’ my leg about that sixth sense, were ya sweetheart?” boothill fell into a natural step behind you.

“consider this added to your tab.”

“yes ma’am!”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[jogetsobsessed]

One Night - Paul Lahote x reader

She's backkkkk! I know this isn't what you want, however, this survived the great laptop crash of 2024 (unlike the half-finished prophecy pt2 doc). This however is cutie in my opinion and I would be open to writing a part 2 (if anyone wants it). Also, I'm almost to 200 followers which is so crazy? Thank you for all the love!

---------------

“No, no, no, no”, you wailed as you looked at your hands. They were shaking as you clutched the plastic, the plus sign clear as day. Your body slumped down the wall of the bathroom, your body curling into itself as you hit the ground. 

What are you going to do? 

You were young, too young in your life to start thinking about starting a family. It's not even like you were seeing anyone. This whole situation came about after you had a bad day and just wanted to forget. To forget life and all your problems. 

You let yourself have fun, with someone you only kind of knew.  At the time that had seemed like the best plan. You knew of him and had met a few times through your friend Emily. It was better than prowling on some meaningless app that you would just delete the next morning. He was nice to look at, extremely cocky, kind of an asshole to everyone else, but always kind to you. 

The few times you had met Paul Lahote before your night of fun he had never gone out of his way to talk to you but that was okay with you. All the other boys that hung around Emily’s house could be way too much. Just dropping her off after work would lead to you being pulled into a two-hour conversation because none of them knew when to shut up. Paul however would always hover on the porch or somewhere else in your eyeline. He never came up to join the conversation but never left his spot of isolation either. 

So after a bad day at the clinic, Emily invited you back to her place for a drink and you accepted. Emily was your friend, one of the only actual friends you had made since moving to the Forks area six months prior. But you haven't spent much time together outside of work, except for riding to and from the clinic. 

But this shift had been so rough on both of you that you needed to vent to each other and get something in your system to make you forget a little. Cut to hours later neither of you notice her fiance and his friends walking in the house to you and Emily losing it on the couch, clutching your sides from how hard you were laughing. 

It wasn't even the alcohol necessarily, the two of you had split a bottle of wine but that wasn't enough to get you messed up to the point of uncontrollable laughter. No, it was finally being able to relax in good company, let loose and enjoy yourself. 

The boys had just snickered at the two of you, Emily’s fiance ushering them back into the kitchen to give the two of you some space. However, at some point, hunger struck and the kitchen was calling your name. 

Emily had declared nachos as the snack of choice and you couldn't agree more. She had charged through the sea of testosterone while you decided to timidly hug the doorframe, not knowing where to place yourself down. The kitchen was full of Sam’s friends and there wasn't a place to sit. You were thinking of slipping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter while Emily assembled plates of goodness.

That was until a particular tanned-skin boy stood up and very subtly gestured towards the chair. A sudden confidence had taken over you, and you certainly can blame that on the wine. Crossing the room in just a few paces you lower yourself onto the previously occupied seat and join the rowdy group at the table. 

Looking up you gave him a silent look of thanks as he stood, leaning his back against the countertop. He reciprocated a small smirk before returning his attention to the intense game of spoons that the other boys were trying to rope you into. 

After that, the night was a blur. You had played a few rounds of the card game, Emily eventually joining with heaping plates of nachos, placing herself in her fiance's lap. Paul had disappeared momentarily, reappearing with an old wooden stool, sitting directly to your left. 

You tried to focus on everything happening, but it was no use. All you could think about was that simple gesture of kindness. The act of chivalry that no doubt was gonna earn him some teasing from his buddies, which is what made it and him so much more attractive. 

Thoughts of the beautiful man plagued your mind the whole night and when he offered to drive you back home at the end of the night you accepted. He blamed it on the fact that he wouldn't feel right if he let you drive home after drinking, even if it was just a few glasses of wine and that had been hours ago. 

Even though you felt completely sober at this point as it had been hours and you had eaten your fair share of nachos you obliged, how could you pass up the opportunity for one of the most attractive men you had laid eyes on in a long time to drive you home? 

Attractive and chivalrous, two things he had going for him. 

The ride home was nice, the windows rolled down, and your hair flowed in the breeze. He drove smoothly and slowly, taking the winding corners with ease. A song that occupied the radio 24/7 played, and you were in such a state of comfort that you allowed yourself to sing along softly. 

It was weird, you barely knew this man, yet you felt so comfortable around him. Being in his presence was easy. 

Once your headlights illuminated the front of your modest home you felt your heart sink. This was it, your night of bliss was going to end. He threw the truck in park, turning to face where you sat. He opened his mouth, to say what you have no idea because you cut him off before he got the chance to speak. 

“Do you wanna come in?”. 

--------------

That night had been six weeks ago. And since then you hadn't seen or heard from him once. Not that you had reached out much. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward and complicated with a friend of a friend. 

Only now things were gonna have to be awkward and complicated, it was sorta unavoidable. 

Time paused as you sat there on the bathroom floor. Staring at the pinked-capped stick. Part of you wished you hadn't taken the test, even if that would have just avoided the inevitable for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks. 

Your head was reeling as you attempted to comprehend the news. On one hand, you had always wanted to be a mom and had dreamed of it. However part of the dream was a perfect house, a perfect job, and a perfect husband. Someone that loved you and supported you. Having a baby daddy that you hardly knew wasn't exactly in the picture. 

------------

At some point your body went on autopilot, you picked yourself off the ground and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. You didn't know what you were getting ready to do, you had already called out after you had woken up before the sun to empty your stomach of last night's dinner. 

The brain fog seemed to slightly lift once you were closing your car door, clutching the steering wheel as your life preserver. The pregnancy test in your pocket feels as if it weighs a thousand pounds. 

You felt insane. 

Who were you to go to this man who you barely knew and just throw this information at him, even if he deserved to know? Because this was his burden too. This wasn't an instance of immaculate conception, it took both of you to get into this situation. 

Recalling an earlier conversation with Emily where you had not so subtly asked what Paul did for work you remembered her mentioning the name of the garage. 

Since today simply could not get more insane you decided to embrace the insanity and started the drive towards the reservation. 

You practiced what you were gonna say over and over, but nothing sounded right. 

“Hey, remember me? I'm the girl you slept with once and ghosted, well I'm pregnant”. 

“Paul, remember me? Y/N, yeah so you kinda got me pregnant”. 

“Hey so remember when I told you that you didn't need a condom, well I say dumb things I don't mean when I’m around pretty people”. 

You were so screwed. 

----------

The parking lot was practically empty because of course, it was. Of course, there wouldn't be enough cars for you to blend in and hide for a little bit to gather your confidence. No besides your car there were only three others, and since you knew that Paul's truck was one of them there was a decent chance that the other two were also employees. The large bay doors of the shop were opening, one of the bays occupied with an old Volvo on the lift. 

Crossing the parking lot, the man of the hour caught your attention. Paul was alone in the garage. Grease and oil covered his hands and forearms as his attention was focused on the car above him. Patting your jacket pocket you made sure your proof was still there. You had only made it about halfway once he spotted you. He did a double take, a minor look of confusion showing. I mean why wouldn't he be confused, you weren't friends and here you were just randomly showing up at his place of business. 

Deciding to pull whatever last shred of confidence you had buried deep down you didn't turn chicken and run back to your car. No, you carried on walking, right up to the edge of his behemoth of a toolbox, slightly leaning on it to gain some support. The nerves make your whole body feel unstable. 

The wrench was abandoned, clattering inside said toolbox and he found a discarded towel that was so dirty it looked like it was only gonna make his hands worse. You couldn't help but study the way his body moved, how he looked in his work clothes, and how his muscles were contracting as he attempted to clean off the grime. Jesus Christ you need to get a hold of yourself, you thought. 

What you didn't notice was he was doing the same to you, looking you up and down searching for a reason as to why you were here. It wasn't until a breeze blew through the garage, that he realized he didn't only smell the dense forest and the various scents of the garage. It carried a faint smell of vanilla and lavender. But it wasn't just that, it was mixed with pine and rosemary. He bristled at the realization, the unique combination meant one thing and one thing only. It had been weeks since he last saw you there’s no way his scent would hang out on you that long unless…

Suddenly nothing else mattered except what you had to say. He wanted to help, to try and make the situation better. So he started to speak, to try and break this ice. But just like you had done weeks prior you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m pregnant”. 

The visible look of relief caused him to calm down, the last thing he wanted in this situation was for you to be stressed out. And the thought of you being so scared to talk to him broke his heart a little bit if he was being honest. 

“Is it mine?”. 

Paul could have ended it all in that moment. Why was he like this? 

He knew it was his, he had definitive proof, and he chose to play the idiot and make the woman who was carrying his child feel worse than she already did. 

“What the hell are you suggesting Paul? Yes it's yours, I wouldn't be telling you if it wasn't”. You crossed your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable and exposed. The confidence meter has fully run out. 

“Yeah no yeah. That um makes sense, I’m sorry. That was a real jackass thing to say. Of course you wouldn't tell me if it wasn't mine”. Paul rubbed the back of his neck as he rambled, avoiding eye contact with you. The magic inside of him was screaming at him, his instincts to protect almost taking over what little composure he held. 

He hadn't planned on telling you about the bond you shared. At least not for a while. 

You were still kinda new to town, and it wasn't fair to derail your life because you had decided to be a kind person and drop Emily off just a few weeks after you had moved. The bond had set in that day, as he was leaving Emily’s house and heading out to his truck. His eyes had darted up upon hearing Em’s voice and what he hadn't expected was to almost fall flat on his face. 

Because for a split second, the two of you made eye contact, it was fleeting and you had returned your eyes to your friend immediately. It had meant nothing to you and everything to him. 

Since that day he vowed to protect you but also to not act selfish and to allow you to make your own decisions.  Which is why he couldn't help but feel horrible. He had ruined your life. 

Paul thinks back to that night, running his mind over every minute, had you been drunk? He had only used that as an excuse to drive you home. But if you had been too intoxicated to make coherent decisions he would never forgive himself. 

“Yeah that was a real jackass thing to say”, you sniffled proud of yourself for not bursting out into heavy sobs. Because in all honesty while it felt like a physical blow hearing him question your morals he was handling the situation better than you would have if you were in his position. It was a fair question, you had only slept together once. 

The next few minutes seemed to pass slowly. After standing there basking in the awkward silence he told you to wait a second and walked into the attached office. You did as he said, too nervous to take the opportunity and leave. He returned a few moments later with much cleaner hands and a small smile graced his face. God, how you were growing to love that smile. 

“Boss told me to head out for the day, don't worry I only told him that I need to take a certain pretty girl out to lunch”, he sent you a wink as he slammed the lid on the toolbox down. Your cheeks grew warm at the compliment, even with how pg it was. I mean this man got you pregnant but him calling you pretty had your chest hammering. 

His hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked, ushering you out of the garage so he could lower the bay door. Once it was down he turned to face you with a smirk replacing the kind smile from earlier. 

“Come on doll, looks like I gotta feed my baby mama”. He howled with laughter as the small tinge of red on your cheeks turned into your whole face going crimson. “Oh this is gonna be fun”, he said through his laughs. 

His warmth on your skin brought you back to that state of peace that you remembered so fondly. You let him lead you towards his truck, thanking him as he shut your door. 

As Paul jogged to the driver's side a smile fought against the smirk. This wasn't how he pictured everything going but he wasn't mad. It wasn't like he got some random girl pregnant, no he got you pregnant. And while you may believe that you were just a random girl to him that was not how he felt. But he wasn't going to tell you that, at least not right now. The last thing he wanted to do was stress you out even more than you already were. 

So he was going to wait. 

He could learn to be content with you being in his life as a girlfriend, or even just the mother of his child. And when the time was right he would tell you.

But for now, he could wait.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Zayne x Reader x Yandere!Caleb

Arts cre to artist

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world overrun by monstrous creatures known as Wanderers, you are one of the last remaining scientists, dedicating your life to preserving humanity. Using cutting-edge biotechnology, you create Caleb and Zayne—two highly advanced humanoid beings designed to assist you in fighting the Wanderer threat. You implant them with memories of being your childhood friends to ensure they feel loyalty, trust, and camaraderie toward you. Caleb is the reliable and determined pilot, wielding gravity-based powers, while Zayne is the calm and resourceful medic, capable of manipulating ice.

The morning sun streamed through the reinforced windows of your lab as the smell of something savory wafted in, pulling you out of your deep focus. You looked up from the maze of wires and circuits sprawled across your workstation just in time to see Caleb entering, balancing a steaming plate in one hand. His dark hair was slightly damp, probably from his morning workout, and his signature confident grin was firmly in place.

“You didn’t eat again, did you?” he said, setting the plate down in front of you.

You blinked at the food—a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs, toast, and even a small bowl of fresh-cut fruit. “Wait… when did you have time to make this?”

“Right after fixing that mess of a ventilation system in the south wing” he replied, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You gave him a wry smile. “You know, you’re starting to sound more like a housekeeper than a pilot.”

“And you’re starting to sound like someone who’s about to faint from hunger” Caleb shot back, gesturing toward the food. “Now eat before I make it a command.”

Reluctantly, you put down your tools and took a bite. It was annoyingly good. You mumbled between mouthfuls, “You’re too good at this. What kind of pilot cooks this well?”

“The kind that has to make up for the genius who forgets to eat.” he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

Before you could retort, Zayne walked in, clipboard in hand, his icy-blue eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of Caleb and his cooking.

“What’s this?” Zayne asked, gesturing to the plate. “Breakfast in bed? How domestic of you, Caleb.”

“Jealous, Doc?” Caleb quipped without missing a beat.

Zayne’s gaze shifted to you. “You really let him boss you around like this?”

“I didn’t let him,” you said, gesturing to the food with your fork. “But I’m not complaining. He’s saving me time.”

Zayne sighed, placing his clipboard on the counter. “You know, if you actually managed your schedule better, you wouldn’t need someone to babysit you.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “And if you lightened up, maybe people wouldn’t freeze the second you walk into a room.”

“Caleb. Zayne.” You set your fork down and gave them both a pointed look. “Can we not do this every time we’re in the same room?”

Caleb smirked but didn’t push further, and Zayne gave a small huff before grabbing a tablet to check mission reports. Despite their constant bickering, there was an undeniable ease to their presence, like two opposing forces that somehow balanced each other out.

You looked between them, a small smile tugging at your lips. No matter how chaotic they were, they were your family—the people you could always count on, even in the darkest of times. ----- The mission had gone horribly wrong. Wanderers ambushed you in the dead of night, forcing Caleb and Zayne into combat. Caleb slammed one creature into the ground with a gravitational pulse, his jaw tight as he yelled “Get behind me!”

Zayne’s breath misted in the air as frost spread from his fingertips, freezing a group of Wanderers in place. “How about you stop barking orders and actually focus on not dying?” he snapped, his voice sharper than usual.

“I am focusing!” Caleb retorted, his gravitational barrier flickering as the strain mounted.

Realizing they couldn’t hold out much longer, you made a split-second decision. Pulling out a remote device, you activated the override. Both Caleb and Zayne froze mid-action, their bodies locking up as their systems shut down.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, dragging them to safety before finishing off the remaining Wanderers yourself.

When they woke up in your lab hours later, the tension was palpable. Caleb sat up first, rubbing his temples. “What… happened? Why couldn’t I move?”

“You shut us down” Zayne said flatly, his tone icy. His sharp gaze pinned you in place. “That override… what else have you been hiding from us?”

You sighed, turning away from their accusing stares. “I had no choice. You both would have died.”

Caleb stood, his expression unreadable. “We’re not just tools, are we? We’re…” His voice faltered, and his hand clenched into a fist. “What are we?”

Zayne crossed his arms, his voice low. “Answer him.”

Taking a deep breath, you faced them. “You’re not tools. You’re not experiments. You’re my creations. I built you to help me save humanity. And I gave you memories—false ones... because I didn’t want you to feel like you were nothing more than machines.”

The silence was deafening. Caleb stared at you, a storm brewing in his eyes. “So… we’re not even human?”

“No.” you admitted softly. “But that doesn’t change what you mean to me. You’re more than just creations. You’re my family.”

Zayne’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained cold. “Family? Is that why you lied to us?��

“I lied to protect you.” you said, your voice firm. “I didn’t want you to feel like you were just tools. You’re not. You’re everything to me.”

In the days that followed, Caleb and Zayne’s behavior shifted. Caleb became more protective, shadowing you during missions and watching you with a guarded intensity. Zayne, meanwhile, grew more reserved, throwing himself into his work but keeping a careful eye on you.

One evening, as you worked late in the lab, Caleb sat nearby, idly fiddling with a gadget. “You should let me help you more.” he said suddenly.

“You already help plenty.” you replied without looking up.

“Not enough.” he muttered. “If something happened to you…”

You looked up, surprised at the vulnerability in his voice. “Caleb, nothing’s going to happen to me. I have you and Zayne, remember?”

He nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Yeah. You have us.”

Later that night, Zayne entered the lab, finding you asleep at your desk. Shaking his head, he draped a blanket over your shoulders and adjusted the room’s temperature to keep you comfortable. “She pushes herself too hard” he murmured, his icy tone melting for just a moment.

“Don’t we all?” Caleb’s voice came from the doorway.

Zayne glanced at him but didn’t respond. Instead, he sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it… she needs both of us.”

Caleb crossed his arms, his jaw tight. “Yeah. She does.”

The city was under siege, and the Wanderer threat was greater than ever. Caleb, Zayne, and you stood side by side, ready to face the horde.

“Stay close to me” Caleb said, his gravitational field already forming.

Zayne rolled his eyes but smirked. “Protect her all you want, but don’t get in my way.”

You placed a hand on both their shoulders, your voice steady. “No fighting. Not now. We do this together.”

For the first time, they exchanged a glance of mutual understanding.

As the battle raged, the three of you worked in perfect sync. Caleb’s gravity crushed waves of Wanderers, while Zayne froze others in their tracks. You enhanced their powers, amplifying Caleb’s field to cover the entire city and super charging Zayne’s ice to create massive barriers.

When the last Wanderer fell, the three of you stood together, battered but victorious. Caleb offered you a tired smile. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

Zayne chuckled, his breath misting in the cold air. “For once, I agree with him.”

You smiled, tears in your eyes. “We always have.”

As the world began to heal, so did your bond with Caleb and Zayne. They accepted their origins and found solace in their roles—not as tools, but as your partners and family. Though their playful rivalry remained, it was no longer tinged with bitterness.

----- Life had been peaceful in the months following the defeat of the Wanderers. The lab had transformed into a hub of innovation, with Caleb and Zayne lending their unique talents to assist you in rebuilding technology for humanity. Despite the occasional bickering between them, a quiet harmony had settled over the three of you.

That peace, however, was shattered the day an unexpected visitor appeared at your doorstep.

You were calibrating a new piece of equipment when the lab’s security system chimed, signaling an incoming guest. Caleb, who had been fixing a damaged drone nearby, frowned and stood immediately.

“Expecting someone?” he asked, tension creeping into his voice.

“No” you said, confused, wiping your hands on a cloth as you walked to the door.

The man standing outside was someone you hadn’t seen in years. Dr. Marcus Vell, a former colleague from your days as a junior scientist. His slicked-back gray hair and sharp suit gave him an air of authority, but there was something unsettling in his smile.

“Y/N!” he said warmly, stepping forward as you opened the door. “It’s been too long.”

“Marcus?” you said, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard about your success” he said, glancing around the lab with thinly veiled interest. “I must say, I always knew you’d surpass the rest of us. Your creations…” His eyes flicked to Caleb and Zayne, lingering a little too long. “…are remarkable.”

Zayne, standing in the corner, crossed his arms, his icy gaze fixed on Marcus. Caleb moved closer to your side, his posture protective.

“Thanks, but I’m pretty busy.” you said, trying to keep the interaction short.

Marcus chuckled, unbothered by the cold reception. “Of course. I won’t take much of your time. I’m here with an offer. Humanity needs minds like yours—truly gifted ones. Come work with me. Together, we could rebuild this world far more efficiently.”

You hesitated, sensing the hidden implications in his words. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m happy where I am.”

His smile faltered slightly, and a flicker of something darker crossed his face. “Don’t be so hasty. You’ve barely heard what I have to offer.”

Caleb stepped forward, his expression hard. “She already said no. You heard her.”

Marcus glanced at him, his smile sharpening. “Ah, the pilot. A fine creation. But let’s not forget who’s really in charge here.”

Before Caleb could respond, you held up a hand. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Marcus.”

Marcus straightened his suit, his eyes lingering on you. “Very well. But consider this—talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted in obscurity. I’ll be in touch.”

As he walked out, Zayne’s voice cut through the silence. “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I” Caleb muttered.

You sighed, brushing it off. “It’s fine. He’s just an old colleague trying to stir up trouble. Forget about him.”

But Caleb and Zayne exchanged a look—one that spoke volumes.

Later that night, while you were asleep, Caleb and Zayne made their move.

“He’s not going to stop” Caleb said, his voice low as he paced the dimly lit lab.

Zayne, seated at a console, typed rapidly, pulling up information on Marcus. “Agreed. He’s been digging into her work for months. I found encrypted correspondence with other labs—he’s trying to recruit people to take her away.”

Caleb clenched his fists. “Then we stop him. Quietly.”

Zayne looked up, meeting Caleb’s gaze. “For once, we’re on the same page.”

Two days later, Marcus Vell vanished.

You didn’t notice at first, too absorbed in your work to realize he hadn’t “followed up” as he promised. When you eventually thought of him again, Zayne was the one to casually dismiss your concerns.

“Marcus?” he said, adjusting his glasses. “I heard he left the region. Something about funding issues.”

“Really?” you asked, frowning. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Caleb chimed in, leaning against the counter. “People like him are all talk. He probably realized you weren’t interested and gave up.”

You nodded slowly, still feeling a vague unease. “I guess. Well, good riddance.”

Caleb and Zayne shared a brief glance behind your back, the unspoken agreement between them crystal clear. Marcus was no longer a threat.

A week later, Caleb handed you a plate of food while Zayne adjusted the cooling system for your new project.

“Thanks” you said with a smile, taking the plate. “You two have been unusually cooperative lately. Should I be worried?”

“Cooperative?” Caleb grinned. “We’re just that good.”

Zayne gave a small shrug, his lips curving into a rare smile. “Sometimes, we have the same priorities.”

You tilted your head, sensing an undertone you couldn’t quite place. But whatever it was, you trusted them. After all, they’d proven time and again that they would do anything to protect you—even if you didn’t always know the lengths they’d go to.

As you turned back to your work, Caleb and Zayne exchanged a small, knowing smirk. They didn’t need your gratitude. Keeping you safe was reward enough.

----- Bonus: The Great Dinner Standoff It had been a long day of work, and you were looking forward to a relaxing dinner. Caleb had volunteered to cook, which usually meant something delicious but overly ambitious. When you entered the dining area, the smell of roasted vegetables filled the air.

Caleb turned from the stove, flashing you a proud grin. “Dinner’s ready. I made roasted carrots with honey glaze, some chicken, and mashed potatoes. Pretty fancy, huh?”

Your mouth watered at the sight of the golden carrots on the table. “It smells amazing. Thanks, Caleb!”

Zayne appeared in the doorway, pausing mid-step as his eyes landed on the carrots. His face immediately darkened. “Carrots? Really?”

Caleb smirked, clearly enjoying Zayne’s reaction. “What’s wrong, Doc? Too sophisticated for your picky palate?”

Zayne ignored him, stepping into the room with a tray of his own. “I made something, too.”

You blinked in surprise. “Wait, you cooked?”

Zayne set the tray on the table, revealing a dish of cilantro-lime rice. “I thought I’d contribute.”

The moment Caleb saw the cilantro, his expression soured. “Cilantro? Seriously?”

Zayne’s lips twitched into a subtle smirk. “Oh, I know. Just thought it would balance out your… overly sweet carrots.”

Caleb glared at him. “You’re sabotaging dinner.”

“Sabotaging?” Zayne asked innocently, taking a seat. “I’m expanding the flavor profile.”

You groaned, sitting down between them. “Can we have one meal without a fight?”

Caleb pointed his fork at Zayne. “Tell him that. He’s the one ruining perfectly good food.”

Zayne calmly spooned some cilantro rice onto his plate. “I could say the same about your poor excuse for a vegetable.”

You sighed, grabbing a little of both dishes and taking a bite. The carrots were sweet and perfectly cooked, and the cilantro rice had a refreshing zest. “Honestly? They’re both great. You two should just appreciate each other’s cooking.”

Caleb muttered something under his breath but started eating, avoiding the rice entirely. Zayne, for his part, made a show of pushing the carrots to the edge of his plate.

By the end of the meal, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite their endless bickering, you knew they both cared in their own strange ways.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Dirty Secret (18+)

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader x Bayverse!Michelangelo

A/N: Just a little something I’ve had in my Docs for months, so I thought it was time to get it out there for you. Hope you’ll enjoy💙🧡

All characters are aged up.

Warning: Voyeurism, masturbation, groping.

It was not something Mikey was proud of, but at this point, he had stopped trying to restrain himself. If it stood to him, he would never let anybody know what he was doing, especially neither you or Leonardo.

It started by total accident. Mikey had gotten out of bed one night, and decided to go to the kitchen in order to get something to eat, while the rest of his family was sound asleep - or so he thought. Had he known, Mikey might not even have gotten out of bed, staying in his room until his snack hunger was over. But of course, Mikey did not know. He could not tell the future, and he did really want a snack. So to the kitchen he went.

There Mikey stood there in the kitchen, enjoying a poptart that Donnie hadn’t yet gotten a hold of - one of the simple pleasures in life, when you lived in a sewer - when he suddenly heard it. A low stream of sounds coming from Leo’s room. Looking back, Mikey should have known what he was hearing, but his curiosity and innocence got the better of him, and soon he found himself in front of his oldest brother’s bedroom door, looking through the keyhole, wondering what weird kind of training his oldest brother had gotten himself into.

There he saw you and Leo naked on Leo’s bed, your legs as far over his shoulders as they would go, while he slowly buckled his hips against yours, watching your face, studying your reactions, taking in your small sounds with each and every move he did against you.

Mikey almost dropped his poptart, stopping his chewing with wide eyes, feeling himself getting flustered. He was not supposed to see that. He was definitely not supposed to see that. Never in his life had he ever thought he would accidently get a view of his big brother, fucking his own girlfriend in the comfort og his room.

Mikey knew it was wrong. This was just not a thing you did. It was wrong. So wrong. Mikey told himself to get a hold of his poptarts, and turn around and leave for his bedroom, and not come out until he was sure you were gone. Yet Mikey kept standing there in front of Leo’s door, watching through the keyhole, even taking a bite of his poptart as he did so.

Slowly chewing his poptart, he watched how you held onto Leo’s arms for dear life, as Leo started to speed up his thrusts into you. It didn’t take long before the sound of your hips slapping together started echoing throughout Leo’s room, and just through the keyhole Mikey was still looking through. At first, Mikey kept watching, stickley out of fascination. He had never had sex before, and this was definitely not something you would get to see very often. Sure, Mikey had seen porn several times, but never before had he seen a mutant turtle go to town on a human woman. It had always been hard, imagining himself in the place of all those human men, on that orange and black website, but this made it a lot easier…

Mikey stayed outside of Leo’s bedroom, until the two of you were finished (at least with that round), where the two of you started to engage in some soft and sweet aftercare. At that point Mikey really felt like he was pushing it, and made a quick dash back to his bedroom with the poptarts he still had left. But unfortunately for Mikey, he had a very hard time falling asleep after what he had witnessed. It did not matter how many poptarts he tried to eat, hoping that they could take his mind off of it, or somehow make him sleepy. And he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. And the more he thought about it, the more did Leo seem to disappear from that memory. It didn’t take long before Mikey’s mind had replaced the leader in blue, with the thought of himself, being the one ramming into you, causing you to moan out in pleasure and ecstasy.

And as the thought of Mikey being the one, fucking you into the matterass underneath you, he could not fight the effect that it started to have on him. He felt his senses grow stronger, along with a pressing feeling in his nether region. But Mikey did not want to admit his body’s own reactions to himself. Not even has he felt his member, slowly make its way out of the slit of his cloaca. It wasn’t until he dropped straight into his own pants, that Mikey allowed himself to pull his shorts down, letting his hard member spring furth, already leaking with pre-cum, begging for him to give it some attention. And so, that night Mikey wrapped his hand around himself, to the thought of you being the one enclosing him with your warm and wet cunt.

The next day, Mikey did everything in his power not to look at either you or Leo. He simply couldn’t face you, knowing that he hadn't just shot one load, while thinking of you moaning and whimpering with joy beneath him, but two. Mikey had two, toe curling, eye rolling and hip thrusting orgasms, at the mercy of his own hand while thinking of you. And for just a moment, last night, Mikey had forgotten that you weren’t his, and that you were in fact together with Leo. So to see you and Leo emerge from Leo’s bedroom together, before heading for the kitchen for something to eat, was like a slap of reality to Mikey’s face. It reminded Mikey of just how wrong his own actions in his own bedroom were. What a betrayal it was to his brother, to think of his girlfriend in such a way.

As Mikey sat there at the kitchen table, deep in thought, trying his best not to look in you and Leo’s direction, mentally berating himself for what he did, he suddenly noticed something out of the corner of his eye. You and Leo stood at the kitchen counter with your backs turned to him, and you cooking something, with one of Leo’s arms wrapped around your shoulder, talking about something Mikey didn’t fully understand. But it was here that Leo’s arm slowly dropped from your shoulder, his hand slowly sliding down the curve of your back, before coming to a rest on your pants-covered ass. There Leo’s hand did a groping motion, before slowly grabbing a fistfull, causing you to giggle and shake your head with a smile, before leaning in against him, saying something along the lines of; “you can’t wait for tonight, can you?”

Mikey froze for a moment, realizing what your words to Leo meant. And with that, Mikey realized that you and Leo most likely were going at it again that night. And it was at that moment - no matter how wrong Mikey knew it was - that Mikey decided that he was going to get another pack of poptarts, and see if he could get some more material of you to enjoy himself with.

[chuuniversal]

THE SECRET DESIRES OF A HUNTER

☆*:.｡ as a hunter of your caliber, you’ve sworn to serving and protecting your community from the likes of wanderers and those that’s don’t hold Linkon City’s interest at heart… but there are things that you yourself want as well…

note from chuu: i found this in my docs and wanted to rework it and sylus needs to be fucked so! here we are lmaoo!! wc is about 1.1k no minors and no ageless blogs pls n thanks!!

cw: groping (breasts), f! reader, titty sucking, clit pinching, sylus refers to himself as “papa” (twice), calls reader princess, missionary to mating press, hint of oral (f! receiving)

as a hunter, your duty is to protect and serve for the greater good of linkon city. fighting and slaying the likes of corrupted wanderers, going underground and gathering information that could disrupt the fabric of the community you hold dear. as a hunter, you hold a lot of responsibility on your shoulders, you’re to set an example for those looking to fill your shoes once you’re one with the universe. at times you enjoy what you do, but you can’t help but to have certain…needs.

you’re always protecting and defending, but at the end of the day who is going to do the same for you? who’s going to satisfy your wants and desires when you find yourself alone at night, that specific hunger pooling deep in your core as you try to satiate it yourself…that is until you met the annoyingly charming silver haired leader of onychinus with a lust for blood. and you.

he always manages to toy with you at your most vulnerable. sylus has you sat in his lap, broad chest pressing against your back as he snakes his hands under your thin lace camisole. his calloused palms once covered in blood now eclipsing your bra. “you’re squirming, something wrong?” he purs teasingly. “your hands…” you sigh softly, anticipating his touch as he slips the cups of your bra off to reveal your breasts. “what about my hands? you don’t like it when i touch you like this?”

sylus takes his time with you, eating up the way you whine for his touch, the pathetic look in your glazed over eyes begging for him to do something, anything!

he finally makes contact with your supple skin, massaging the softness of your tits meticulously and brushing against your pebbled nipples. “i can stop, just say so”. he nips at the shell of your ear, groaning and whispering his darkest desires for you. you really can’t help but melt into the palms of his hands, your thighs pushing and rubbing together as you try to satiate that need building in your core. you’ve been craving this kind of attention, hungry for his touch and that feeling of pleasure he pulls out of you every time the two of you are alone.

“poor thing, panties probably soaked” he chuckles deeply, continuing his assault groping your tits and tugging at your sensitive nipples. “you just needed papa to take care of you” he whispers before pinching a little harder, smiling devilishly as you writhe in pure ecstasy. “t-took you long enough” you whine, pout melting as you succumb to the pleasure.

he has you on your back now, crowding your space as he slots himself in between your supple thighs. sylus takes a nipple into his mouth, slowly sucking on the sensitive peak as he massages the other in his hand. his tongue is hot and sticky, swirling around the puffy bud until he takes it into his mouth, sucking until he releases with a pop. whines for him leave your pretty lips, your hands gripping at his bicep. he smirks at you as his thumb rubs small circles around your nipple. “tell me what you need, princess.”

you need him where it aches most, you’re tired of being toyed with, tired of waiting. locking your legs around his waist, you stare him in the eyes with a seriousness and hunger he hasn’t seen from you. “s-stop toying with me and fuck me already!” the sexual tension that smothered the atmosphere of the room thickened, so still and quiet you could hear a pin drop.

with a swiftness sylus now has your legs thrown over his shoulders and your hands held over your head. his eyes are a radiant crimson red and his voice is lowered and rasped. “and here i was trying to be a gentleman,” he rips your panties to the side, revealing your soaked cunt. spreading your slick folds, he rubs your clit before pinching it, ripping a squeal from you. “meanwhile you just wanted to be fucked stupid, is that it?” before you can spit back an insult, the tip of his cock pushes through tight rings of muscle until he’s in fully.

you gasp in shock as his hips move at a rapid rhythm, cock pumping in and out of your sloppy cunt as you moan and writhe from the intensity. he pushes your legs back to your chest, large hands gripping your pillowy thighs as he plunges deeper. it doesn’t help that you’re sucking him in, velvety feel of your heat welcoming every inch of him. “mmm she needed this huh?” he groans, bending down to leave pretty blotchy marks on your neck. “you can hear how much she needed papa to take care of her, listen.” he stops talking and slows his thrusts so that the only sound is the lewd squelch every time he pushes in and out. “she’s got so much to say.”

the way he refers to your cunt like you’re not even in the room should have pissed you off… but your mind is clouded with every stroke. his condescending timbre unfortunately excites you, your pussy tightening anytime he teases you. you can feel yourself getting close, each stroke massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves within you. you stammer over your words and whine as your fingers fumble to play with your clit. the added sensation sending you over the edge as you moan louder, the high pitched cry at the end shushed with a sloppy kiss. sylus continues fucking into you, biting at your tongue and puffy lips like a starved animal.

“cum on it, that’s it. fuck!” he groans into your mouth as you mewl into his. euphoria radiates in your core until it finally bursts, shooting waves of pleasure through your body from your toes to your fingertips. you’ve never felt this kind of high, so overwhelming that you can’t help to babble mindlessly. “c-cumming! w-wait!” but it’s fallen on deaf ears, sylus himself lost in pleasure continues thrusting into you until he’s bored with the position. “awn now don’t give me that, i know you have one more in you.” he’s quick, turns you over so that your face is in the sheets and your ass is in the air.

you’d be lying if you told him you didn’t. you wanted more, the adrenaline rush so intoxicating that your fingers spread your slick folds for him without a thought. “d-don’t just gawk at it, either stick it in or eat it…” you weakly demand, whining as you start to play with your buzzy clit. sylus can’t help but laugh, you’re so cute when trying to assert yourself. it’s laughable that you said either, he thinks to himself as he spreads your pussy with his thumbs. he plans on ruining you the entire night, everything from devouring your sweet cunt to fucking you in every position imaginable until sunrise. but you don’t have to know that, before he’s nose deep he bites at your thigh. “yes ma’am.”

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆thank you for reading! if you enjoyed feel free to like, reblog and or comment! send an ask if you want, i don’t bite :3!

[ljubimaya]

𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐒 ꫂ ၴႅၴ ft. Baji Keisuke

Eros: romantic love, desire, the God of love

c/w: fluff, suggestive, fem! reader, nicknames (baby, doll, my woman), based on this silly post I made a while ago, heavily selfship coded, established relationship, he is a sap here, proposals/talks of marriage/having children (the latter is very subtle), would have posted earlier up docs didn't eat my draft + my writing capabilities took a nose dive.·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·., not proofread

W/C: 2.5k (this was supposed to be 500 words...)

Baji Keisuke was an impulsive man. From waking you up at odd hours just to drive around on his bike, to involving you in his pyromanic car demolitions, your year long friendship was filled with chaos - the good kind, you'd argue. There was never a dull moment with your then best friend, now boyfriend. Boyfriend, what an odd way to call the man you have secretly pined over for many years. Too many years, to be honest, yet you never found it in yourself to confront your beloved, thinking he would never reciprocate your feelings. How foolishly wrong you were to think your best friend who you'd watch take other people out on his bike would reciprocate your feelings - or so you thought.

There was no way of telling what was going on in his mind, as Baji seemed to have perfected his pokerface over the years of being just your friend. Truly, you didn't even think he would fall for you the way you did for him, until Keisuke confessed to you. It wasn't obvious to anyone, but Baji Keisuke was a lover boy at heart; though he concealed his yearning to hold your hand and taste your lips very well. So he continued to dance on the line between friendship and courtship, unwilling to risk your year-long friendship over something he wasn't entirely sure you wanted back. Sure, he was better at hiding his true feelings than you by a long shot - as evident by your refusal to hold his gaze at every tender moment he shared with you. These were the times the impulsive ravenette fought himself to not grab your face with his large hand and crash his lips against yours, keen on keeping the illusion of platonic love.

Alas, what is meant to happen will always find a way, and Keisuke confessed his feelings to you after many painful years of mutual pining.

Your relationship with the impulsive man progressed at bullet speed. Not even five months have passed since you started dating, yet you and Keisuke have already renovated and moved into a small apartment not too far away from your work place - which didn't seem so weird to you at all. How could it be weird for you to move in with the man you love when you kissed him on the day of officially dating and shared the bed with him on the second? You and the ravenette were deaf to the concerns of friends and family advising you to “slow down” and “take your time”, too high of each other's love to pull the brakes on the speeding car that was your relationship. Truthfully, you didn't care if you crashed and burned as long as it was with him, and he shared the same sentiment as you.

“My ride or die” Keisuke whispered lowly against your lips as he pinned you down on your shared bed. His hands roamed all over your body, leaving no inch untouched and unattended. Your lover's calloused fingers danced over your hot skin, fueling your endless hunger for more; more of his kisses, more of his touch, more of him. A shiver ran down your spine at the deep rasp of his voice “Yes, your ride or die” you whispered breathlessly as your hands fist at his shirt, pulling and tugging on it in hopes of him abandoning the annoying piece of fabric.

A dark chuckle left his lips upon hearing your immediate confirmation. Your eagerness amused him; the desperate and needy look on your face was perhaps his second favorite view: your half lidded eyes gazing up at him, lips swollen from the endless unslaught of his kisses and bites, your make up smudged and your hair messy. Yet, despite your clear need for him, you looked at him as if he hung the stars himself. One look into your eyes, and the ravenette saw nothing but pure adoration and love no matter what - when you wake up, when you fight, when you're mad at him, when you're screaming at him, the spark of love always remained in your eyes at all times and outshone any other emotions you were feeling.

“You know” Keisuke’s hand traveled to your face, cupping your cheek as his thumb softly glitter over your glistening lips “You bring out the sap in me” Your eyes crinkle as a smile grew on your lips “Yeah, I know that already” you cheekily replied, kissing his thumb. Your boyfriend let out a deep chuckle at your reply “Of course you know that. You know everything about me, dontcha?”

“It'd be a shame if I didn't know my boyfriend well” you hummed as you gazed up at him. He looked so good on top of you - a soft smirk playing on his lips, a light flush on his cheeks and his hair cascading down, almost like curtains down on his sides. Keisuke was by far the most handsome man you knew, both inside and out. You loved many things - if not everything - about your other half. From his undying loyalty to his nurturing care towards animals, he couldn't be any more perfect to you.

“Would be a damn shame, right baby?” he started, leaning down to give your forehead a chaste kiss “I can't believe I got the sweetest doll laying in my bed. I gotta be the luckiest bastard ever” His lips traveled from your forehead to your nose, planting small kisses on his wake before stopping right above your lips.

“I can't believe I have you all to myself “ he whispered roughly as his lips brushed against yours ever so slightly, controlling the urge to smash his mouth against yours “After all these years of pining, yearning, holding back, I can finally call you mine” he moves to kiss your cheek ever so tenderly, his lips leaving behind a hot trail of kisses on his journey to your neck.

“You know what I love most about you?” Keisuke queried, his husky voice muffled from the little kisses the ravenette lovingly placed on your neck. A whimper left your lips at the gentle touch of his lips. There was no denying that your boyfriend was a wild and rough man who found enjoyment in marking you up with his bite marks - after all the whole world should know you were already spoken for. The unusual tenderness from your boyfriend seemed to melt every possible thought or input you had; you were left speechless, enjoying the softer side Keisuke showed you.

Usually, he'd be smug about the effect he had on you, but not this time. Instead, he kept on kissing along your neck to your collar bones “I love that you love me with your whole being” He hoarsely whispered against your skin “You love me like it's the easiest damn thing in the world when I know that's not the case” he leaves open mouthed kisses on your hot body, his teeth graze your soft skin tantalizing slow, careful not to apply too much pressure “You always worry about me, take care of my wounds after fights and endure sleepless nights when I'm dragging you out for some midnight snacks. I'm stubborn and hot headed and hot headed and impulsive, I'm also not the sharpest tool on the shed, yet you love me despite my flaws”

“Kei-” you breathlessly whimpered as he slowly sunk his teeth into your sweet flesh. The ravenette nibbled on your collarbone, delirious from your taste and the sounds of pleasure you made “I'm not done, baby” he muttered gruffly before kissing the bite marks he left on with "I love that I love you so damn much. Being with you taught me that no argument, no problem, no illness, not a single soul could tear me away from you” a shudder ran down your spine at his declaration. Heat spread across your cheeks, burning with the intensity that was the wild inferno of your love for him as he plastered your neck with more delicate kisses.

“You complete me, you bring out the best of me. Every day I wake up next to you is a blessing to me - even when you're drooling all over the pillows and forgot to take off your makeup before going to sleep” A laugh rumbled through his chest as he heard your gasps and giggles.

“Oh, shut up! That was a one time thing!” You tried to defend yourself from his accusation, giggling as you came face to face with the man on top of you. He lifted his face from your neck, a teasing glint in his eyes as he furrowed his brows “My camera roll says otherwise” You could only roll your eyes at him, and smile still playing on your lips as you tried to counter with a witty remark “Taking pics of sleeping people is weird, don't you think?”

“Nah, I'm taking pics of my woman. That's a whole different story” he countered effortlessly and without thinking too long about it before the teasing glint died down, replaced by the look of a love struck man. Truly, if the God of love existed, you'd imagine the tender look on your boyfriend's face being the product of being shot by cupid's arrows - but this wasn't the work of a higher entity commanding the man's feelings, forcing love onto him arbitrarily. Keisuke chose to stay in love with you, and the faintest, but sweetest voice in the back of your mind told you that he'd love you in every lifetime if there was such a thing.

“You have a death grip on my heart, baby” the ravenette continued “You ain't ever gonna get rid of me. I'm in it for life”

“For life?” You chuckled as you put a strand of his long, thick hair behind his ear “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're proposing to me” you teasingly stated, not having thought through what your reply could trigger within your lover. Normally, you would expect a witty remark back from him, something smug and teasing to keep the playful banter up; instead, you were greeted with silence.

Mentally slapping yourself, you wanted to take your words back as you watched the corners of Keisuke’s mouth fall, the sweet grin turning into a thin line. All of a sudden, the atmosphere turned from tender to serious.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Panic shot through your body at the sudden change. Did I just ruin our moment? you half wondered half accused yourself as your heart hammered against your ribcage furiously. Despite your relationship with Keisuke progressing at a rapid speed, you haven't brought up marriage yet. Truthfully, there never seemed to be an occasion that would have opened the door for any discussions pertaining to marriage and possibly wanting to have children until now. While you knew a lot of your boyfriend's views and goals, you weren't sure if marriage was in the books for Keisuke.

Swallowing hard, you realized that perhaps this conversation was to be held on another day. You opened your mouth to say something that could soothe the situation, that would serve as damage control, but nothing came to your mind. Thankfully, you didn't need to say anything, as Keisuke took initiative to end the deafening silence between you and him.

“I am” his deep voice rumbled through his chest, dark brown eyes looking into yours with unmatched sincerity and devotion “I know what I want, and I want you for life. I want the good and bad, through sickness and health, through poor and rich, I want you by my side”

It was as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Your chest felt lighter and your legs weakened at your boyfriend's declaration of love. Thankfully, you were laying down on your shared bed instead of standing, or else you would have lost your balance and fallen to your knees. Heat spread out all over your body as his words finally fully sunk in - he was serious. He was proposing to you.

“Oh, Kei” you cupped his face ever so tenderly, thumb grazing against his warm cheek as you looked him deeply into his eyes. Your voice was unsteady and your vision got blurry, both from dizziness and the tears that welled up in your eyes. A strange mix of guilt and love fell over you. It was almost laughable how you misread him, because now that he has made his intentions clear, all doubts that lingered in your heart vanished at the snap of a finger. Of course he would want to spend the rest of his life with you, and you knew you wanted the same.

“What do you say, doll? Be my bride?” Keisuke whispered, his voice smooth as silk as the usual gruffness disappeared. The ravenette's voice might have been calm, but the subtle shaking of his body gave his nervousness away.

“Yes” you quietly replied in a shaky, breathy voice “Yes, I do” the answer left your lips a little too fast, almost eager - desperate even - to become fully his.

A grin spread across Keisuke's lips. He ducked his head down, his lips crashing with yours clumsily in a messy but passionate kiss. His lips molded perfectly against yours as if he was made for you to kiss; and you fit inside his arms as if you were made to be held by him. You weren't sure if there was a higher being dictating the fate of every human, but one thing you knew for sure: if you had a soulmate, it had to be Baji Keisuke.

“My little bride to be” he whispered against your lips between searing kisses “My little wifey”

“I'm not your wife yet” you countered, giggling at his eagerness. A deep chuckle escaped your fiancé's lips, a smug grin adorning his handsome face “You will be tomorrow” his thumb grazed across your cheek, wiping away your tears of joy “You know me, I'm not a patient man. You will get pretty tomorrow, and I will get us rings and an officiant”

“Oh? How are you going to do that?”

“Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Let that be my problem, yeah?” he hesitated for a moment as if thinking about something, before he continued “You're fine with this, right? You don't mind us having a wedding so spontaneously?”

“No!” You responded quickly “not at all. I don't care if we make grand plans or none at all, as long as I'll become your wife” upon hearing your reassurance, the ravenette's face softened. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours, his nose lightly grazing yours as he peers down on you “Then it's settled, doll. Tomorrow, you will be mine. Till death do us part”

You and your lover laid closely snug to one another throughout your last night as boyfriend and girlfriend, basking in the pure bliss that was your love and restlessly awaiting the next day. You didn't think about you having to rush and buy a cheap dress, or having no grand wedding cake, you didn't even think of how you would explain to your friends and family about your sudden elopement with Keisuke. None of that mattered to you when the man you loved most held you tight at night and promised to love you for eternity.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Finding Refuge.

Chapter One

Surrvivng a Zombie Apocalypse with Terry

He was running low on tea bags.

His ever-changing eyes glanced over at a haphazardly placed calendar within the abandoned diner, red sharpie slashes his tally of keeping track of the days. How did things turn upside down in 204 days? A general assault on civilization.

The poorly placed charcoal-gray henley he wore was hanging on by a thread. The jeans that were once his favorite pair bore holes and debris on them. He’d salvaged an old pair of Doc Martens to keep his feet protected. Hands covered in fingerless gloves carefully wrapped around the tin mug before him. He puckered his lips to blow away some of the steam wafting from the mug before taking a tentative sip.

Terry Richmond was a survivor. The collapse of society around him pushed him harder. An ex marine having to use his skills every single day. How was it that the sky turned an almost sickly green? Like he was in the middle of Chernobyl. There wasn’t a place surrounding him that didn’t smell of death and despair. The screams and cries from those once whole became quieter as the year climbed to an end.

His sculpted jaw clenched and he closed his tired eyes for a few seconds. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had decent sleep. Traveling between the barricaded diner he’s currently sitting in alone and an old farm house in the middle of acres of land, he’s always on high alert. The faintest rustling woke him from a two minute nap. He was too afraid to start the pick-up truck he’d salvaged, not wanting those flesh-eating bastards to find him.

They’d already found his cousin.

Stop with those thoughts, he’s alive, Terry’s inner voice spoke.

In one day, the world succumbed to a pestilence that decimated the living. In its place rose a new species: vicious, gruesome, wandering zombies with an insatiable hunger for the living. What started out as a trip to Shelby Springs, turned into an apocalyptic nightmare. The world shut down. The money in a Kan Long Chinese bag wasn’t worth anything. Just thirty-six thousand dollars that can’t be used.

Terry remembered that day. It was a constant battle to keep the images from his mind. He remembered rushing into that hospital in Shelby Springs, carrying Summer in his arms, frantically asking for help while she bled out from a wound in her neck. In a matter of hours she changed. The once sweet, gentle woman he’d known turned into a monster. An undead beast. A ghoul with teeth bared, charging at him…

March 31st, 2024:

Terry’s hazel eyes popped open immediately at the sound of terror cries and pleading. His but felt numb from the hard surface of the chair he was sitting in within Summer’s room at the hospital. He shot up from his seated position, staring down at the vacant hospital bed. The tubing that was once attached to her arms, was dripping to the cold floor. His unblinking stare followed what appeared to be bloody footsteps towards the bathroom door that’s ajar.

Yellow light seeped through the crack of the door, and as Terry reached out to open it, more cries and hurried footsteps erupted again. He jerked his hand away, heading towards the door. Terry yanked it open, rushing into the chaos without hesitation. His head rotated from left to right and the imagery before him was something out of a movie. Staff were being charged and attacked by patients with a cannibalistic nature. Terry back-tracked into the room, stunned and confused.

“Summer…”

Creak…

Slowly, his head turned towards the bathroom door. There, standing within the doorway, looking like a corpse walking, was Summer. She looked as if she were rotting. Her bare feet shuffled closer, and there was this hungry look in her dark blue eyes. Terry stepped towards the door, keeping his eyes locked on her. Summer made snarling, sniffing noises and when she opened her mouth, blood poured down her chin.

“Wha–what the fuck?” Terry spoke with a hushed tone.

Suddenly, Summer charged him startling Terry when she clung onto his shirt. The force knocked Terry off his heels and they barged out into the hallway. The ruckus gained the attention of the others that looked like her, and they slowly made their way over. They were seemingly satisfied with their meals. Bodies lined the floor like an open graveyard.

“Get the fuck off me, Summer!”

Terry had to wrap his large hand around Summer’s frail neck. Disgust and disbelief washed over his face when he came into contact with her sunken flesh and blood. She smelled vile, and she looked exactly how a zombie would look in movies. Terry was sure that’s what Summer was now. A zombie. The walking dead. And with that knowledge, he didn’t care to hurt her. She wasn’t Summer anymore.

Terry shoved her away and sprinted down the hall, bumping past another zombie that tried to grab his arm. His heart throbbed in his chest and his feet propelled him forward as fast as he could run. Terry didn’t even allow the sliding doors to open fully before he barged out into the humid night. He made his way towards Summer’s Volkswagen, fumbling for her keys that he had within the pocket of his jeans. He frantically looked up with wide, terror-stricken eyes at the zombies in the hospital killing and spreading their virus.

Terry forced the driver’s side door open and climbed in quickly. Starting the engine, he reversed before making a tire–screeching turn, leaving the hospital behind. Out on the road, he bear witness to innocent blood being shed. Swerving, Terry maneuvered the car away from a few head–on collisions that came at him. The only thing on his mind was to stay alive and get his cousin. That’s what he came to do anyway. He sold his truck to help bail Mike out of jail so they could make an honest living for themselves.

Looks like that won’t ever happen.

Terry flew down the road towards the police station. Once there, he left the car and ran towards the entrance. From what it looked like, there was no police in sight. They were all out trying to figure out what was going on. Terry flung the doors open, the sound of landlines ringing off the hook. He took it upon himself to look for where they were holding Mike. Sweaty and pumped with adrenaline, Terry found himself deep within the station, surrounded by locked rooms that must have been used for interrogation.

“Mike! Yo! Mike!”

Terry started banging against the doors, unable to see inside of the rooms because of how tiny the plexiglass panel is. He was ready to give up and try Town Hall when the familiarity of his cousin’s voice led him towards the last room on the right. Relief washed over him as he jiggles the doorknob, finding it locked tight.

“Mike…you in there?!” Terry shouted.

“Terry? That you?! What’s going on?! How the fuck did you get back here past these cops?!”

“M…listen,” Terry had to catch his breath, “I’m gonna find a way to get this door down—”

“No you don’t, boy. Back away from the door…”

Terry froze. He cut his eyes towards an officer he hadn’t noticed. He had his weapon pointed at Terry’s head, ready to unload at any moment.

“Hands up! NOW!”

“Officer, I need you to listen—”

“I SAID HANDS UP! YOU LISTEN TO ME WHEN I’M TALKIN’ TO YOU!”

Terry pursed his full lips angrily, eyes glued to the door that separated him from his cousin. Slowly and reluctantly, Terry’s hands rose and he placed them on his head.

“Turn around…”

Terry dragged his feet, his built body shifting. He faced the officer, a white man of average height with ginger hair and a pudgy face. In Terry’s mind, he could do some long–lasting damage on this officer. He’s a veteran soldier who is torn over the loss of many. He can be cruel and both merciless, but instead he chooses to be the bigger man. He’d had enough of the crooked cops in this fucked up town. Sick of the insults and threatens.

“What ‘til the Chief sees this—”

“Do you want to die?”

The offer stared Terry down like he’d lost his mind saying those words to him.

“DO YOU? Looks like I’m the one with the gun. I’d choose my next words wisely…”

“You see,” Terry lowers his hands, eyes menacing, “I ain’t got time for another run–in with you mother fucka’s. Now, I’m assuming you have the keys to my cousin’s freedom. Open the door, or I’m a take them off you myself.”

“FUCK YOU—”

Terry charged, dodging a bullet to the chest and one strong, muscular arm close lined the officer, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying. Terry hovered over him, one fist yoking him up by his vest and the other delivering a nose–crushing jab to the face. He yanked the gun from his grasp and placed it in his back pocket. He couldn’t afford to discharge his weapon. He was going to need it. There were bigger fish to fry.

“KEYS. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Terry barked out with rage lacing his deep baritone.

“Ba–back pocket,” The officer tried to form words through missing teeth.

Terry viciously turned the officer onto his stomach and he pat him down until he could feel the outline of the keys. He snatched them from his pocket and put his boot against his head to keep him still while cuffing him . The officer struggled, but he was no match for Terry’s strength.

Terry pressed his mouth to the officer’s ear, “Move again, and I’ll crack your head open on this floor.”

Terry pushed himself onto his feet and with heavy, profound breaths, he marched over to Mike’s door. Once opened, Mike shot up from one of the chairs, hands cuffed behind his back. None of the keys in Terry’s hands would uncuff Mike. Mike smiled at his cousin, and Terry wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Listen, Mike, look…there’s some shit goin’ on out there that ain’t got time to be explained. We gotta bounce…I’m serious cuz. We gotta go. Get far away from this fuckin��� town and fast—”

“What? What’s good? Cops on your ass? Why you here getting caught up in my mess, lil’ cuz—”

“You family. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s go…”

“Okay, okay…what about,” Mike turned to show Terry his restrained hands.

“We’ll figure it out, come on!”

Terry shoved Mike towards the door and when they stepped out into the hall, Mike’s left foot flew into the officer’s side, causing him to whimper in pain. Terry had to give Mike another push to get him to focus.

Too late.

“Yo…Terry…you seeing this?”

Dread lined Terry’s features. Zombies. A group of them. Slowly approaching the front with slow, unsteady movements. Terry dragged a hand down his face, locking eyes with Mike who stared back with a frightened look in his eyes.

“Am I tripping, or do they look like fucking zombies?!”

Terry searched the area. He had no way of getting to the car without reinforcements.

“They can’t get in,” Terry grabbed Mike by the arm, leading him into the main area of the station, “Let’s get your cuffs off right now and get as much ammo to blow every last one of their heads OFF.”

Mike stood in the middle of the room while Terry tore the place apart. Papers cascaded to the floor and chairs were overturned. Finally, he found a pair of keys on the Chief’s desk sitting next to a mug of lukewarm coffee. Guess he didn’t have time to collect them when he rushed out. Terry jogged over to Mike and fit the key into the cuffs, successfully removing them. Mike rubbed his wrists frantically while Terry used the same keys to open the property room. He wanted his money, and he wanted protection. Mike was confused and afraid, following Terry’s every move, filling duffel bags with anything they could grab.

“Just pile the shit in, fam. No time to think about the consequences,” Terry tossed Mike another empty bag, “Them cops probably dead anyway. Fuck them.”

“What did I just see?”

Mike was talking to himself more than anything. Terry paused, staring up through his thick lashes at his cousin.

“How the fuck did I end up in this town and surrounded by zombies? This gotta be a nightmare.”

Terry tried to control his breathing. He stood at his towering height, satisfied with what they grabbed.

“As much as I wanna know what’s going on, we need to get to safety. A friend of mine that was helping me is…she’s one of them,” Terry tilted his head towards the exit, “She ain’t got no life in her. You can't negotiate with a zombie. They have only one impulse—that's to eat us or our brains. And I didn’t come all this way to turn into the undead. Understand?”

“Y–Yeah…I hear you.”

“Do you? Because we gotta run for our life to that car once we hit this door behind us. Can I count on you for that, Mike?”

“Yeah…yeah. Run fast, don’t look back…Let’s do this.”

Terry tightened his jaw and gave Mike a firm nod before extending his hand out. Mike dabbed Terry, clinging on tight before letting go. They threw the heavy bags across their bodies, and took long strides towards the exit. Terry peeked out, and he couldn’t see any zombies, but he made sure the gun in his hand was ready to fire. Gently, he pushed the door open, his eyes casing out the area. It was dark and silent. Terry looked back at Mike over his shoulder, bringing a finger to his mouth to shush him as they walked.

Crouching low, they quietly walked towards the front of the station. Terry smoothed his hand against the concrete wall, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and onto his bottom lip. He looked back at Mike, thankful that he did because there was a zombie far behind them, sniffing the air like an animal to its prey. Terry didn’t alert Mike, not wanting him to panic. It were far enough away from them both.

Terry pressed his back against the wall and slowly peeked around the corner. The zombies were scattered, but none were hovering around the car. Sirens blared in the distance, and the sound acted as a distraction. The blue and red lights drew closer and the zombies took notice, rerouting themselves towards the dirt road. Terry kept his eyes locked forward on his target, but his left hand made a come–hither motion at Mike.

With no time to waste, at a breakneck speed, the cousins made a beeline for the Volkswagen. Two police cruisers began to approach and they were centimeters away from the car. Mike lost his footing on gravel and that didn’t fall on deaf ears. Two Zombies turned their undead eyes towards their direction. Panicked, Mike pushed up from the ground, dragging the bags against the dirt. Terry rushed over to help, eyes wide when a Zombie picked up speed.

They moved fast?

Terry aimed the gun and fired, blowing the zombies head off and painting the dirt with its non–functional brain.

Whoop! whoop!

“TERRY RICHMOND?!”

Fires let off. Terry crouched down behind the car.

“THERE’S MORE! THEY’VE SWARMED THE STATION!”

“CALL FOR BACK UP—”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“CALL FOR BACKUP ALL UNITS TO THE STATION! THIS IS 105! DO YOU COPY?!”

Terry remains low to the ground and it was only a matter of time before they were either gunned down or eaten. Zombies ranked them from all sides. Police shooting. Terry opened the back door and flung his bag and Mike’s into the seat. Slamming the door, Terry aggressively shoved Mike to move into the car.

“GET IN THROUGH THE DRIVERS SIDE! NOW!”

Spit flying and veins popping out of his neck, Terry unloaded the clip into Zombies that were close enough to do damage. He could hear glass shattering behind him and some of the shards fell over his body. With all possible haste, he dropped the empty gun to the ground and climbed into the drivers side just in time to slam the door on a Zombies fingers. He started the ignition, Mike keeping himself low to avoid gunfire. Terry picked up speed, flying out of the area.

It didn’t matter that he crashed into police cruisers, he needed to get away. Bullets ricocheted off of the car, Terry hoping that a bullet won’t pierce a tire. This was their only transportation option. A bike would only get them killed and walking was much worse. Once they made it out onto the main road, Terry brought the car to a slow stop. Engine roaring, Mike and Terry sat in solemn silence. No room for conversation. After some minutes, Terry put the car back in drive, Summer’s home their destination and hiding place.

She had a little girl.

She was fighting to stay clean for her little girl.

Terry was thankful for the darkness. He didn’t want Mike to see his tears.

Calloused hands gripped the leather steering wheel to stop himself from breaking down…

Day 201:

“Hello? Mike? Do you copy?”

Terry peeked between the wood planks he nailed into the window frame from the outside of an old farm house. Nightfall was approaching.

“Come in, Mike. It’s Terry. Are you waiting out?”

Terry clicked off on his walkie talkie, waiting two minutes before speaking again.

“This is Terry. I spell, D-U-B-L-I-N. Do you copy?”

That’s where he was currently located. In rural Georgia. Far from Louisiana. He knew staying here for as long as he did was dangerous. Their plan was to keep moving at all costs. Terry flopped down on the sofa, facing defeat once more. He snatched his black beanie from his head and stared forward into the fireplace. The orange embers warmed his skin. As his eyes dragged up the fireplace, he stared into the face of a family of five.

The creeping sensation of vomit left a bad taste in his mouth. He pushed himself up to his boot–covered feet, stomping over to that picture. Terry flipped the framed portrait over, just like he’d done the others. His piercing eyes shut tightly, flickers of what he’d done to this family a painful memory. They weren’t themselves anyway, Terry had to remind himself of that as his lids slowly opened.

A single tear cascaded down his handsome face and before it could reach his overgrown mustache, he flicked it away with a scarred knuckle. Sniffling back his remaining sadness, Terry brought the walkie talkie to his mouth again. He exhaled, clenching his jaw with frustration. How could he just up and leave like that?

Terry knew the reality of their situation from day one. Mike never accepted it. He wanted to go back home to his girlfriend and his parents. He fought day in and day out to keep moving. While Terry already formulated in his mind that the people he once knew were most likely dead and gone, Mike couldn’t face that reality. Tension grew between them, and soon raging arguments. Terry woke up one morning while they were staying in an abandoned warehouse to Mike gone. Terry could only deal with it like he had to deal with his new life.

Surrounded by death.

And with all of that, he still had hopes that Mike was alive.

“Mike. This is Terry…are you safe man?”

He couldn’t shadow the tremble in his voice.

Silence.

Terry squeezed the walkie talkie to the point of shattering it.

He needed some air—oh wait—he can’t step outside or else they’d spot him.

He wanted to scream—oh no—they’d hear him and come searching.

Back on the couch, Terry sat the walkie talkie down on the coffee table. He picked up his bowl of beans and continued eating. Canned goods were essential. He planned on finding refuge some place safer soon so he could plant food and hunt. Even through the apocalypse, Terry kept himself in shape. He needed to be. Without endurance and strength, how else would he defend himself?

Semper Fidelis.

Latin for ‘Always faithful’

the motto of every Marine—an eternal and collective commitment to the success of their battles, the progress of their Nation, and the steadfast loyalty to the fellow Marines they fight alongside. One of many things he couldn’t shake from the Corps.

“Ooh-rah.”

Saying the battle cry always seemed to remind him that he was in constant danger.

After eating his beans, Terry cleaned up and made his way to bed. He set a timer on his watch, making sure to be up by a certain time to wash. Without proper plumbing, he had to result to his outdoor survival skills. Luckily, there was a creek nearby that he could escape to for a quick cleanse every morning.

He slept in a white T-shirt and black sweats. Terry glanced over at his walkie talkie sitting on the night stand. His anxiousness got the best of him, and he grabbed it, pressing the button for the final time that evening.

“D-U-B-L-I-N.”

He held his finger firmly on the button, the static loud within his ears. Just when he was about to give up, a voice on the other end had him sitting up in bed.

“Hello? Hello?”

Terry didn’t recognize that voice. His pulse rate was through the roof. Finally. Finally after almost two months of no contact. But who was this? Even through the static and bad signal, he could tell it was a voice of a woman.

“This is Terry. Who is this?”

It was silent for five seconds before they responded.

“Are you somewhere safe?”

“You answer my question first.” Terry replied angrily.

“My name is R–”

“Say again?”

“My name is Rae. Are you somewhere safe?”

Terry hesitated answering. Rightfully so his trust was lost. This Rae had Mike’s walkie…

“Hello? Terry?”

She had the most sincere voice with a captivating southern drawl.

“Hello?”

“I’m safe.”

“Dublin?”

“Where is Mike?”

“I don’t know a Mike. I found this walkie talkie. Here in Senoia.”

Terry scrunched his face in confusion. That’s nearly two hours away. He must of been on his way back to Louisiana. Terry’s stomach tightened with worry. Maybe something got to Mike before he could get to Louisiana…

“Mike is my cousin. He left me in Dublin for almost two months. I’ve been trying to reach him.”

“I’m sorry, Terry. I’ve never met your cousin.”

“Where in Senoia did you find this?”

“Near a work zone.”

“Okay…I don’t know you, Rae, but…I could use some…some help. Maybe Senoia will give me that…”

Terry paced the bedroom, walkie pressed against his mouth. He scratched at his scruffy beard impatiently, waiting for Rae to speak.

“Radio check. What’s your signal, Rae?”

His nerves were a wreck. His patience was low.

“I’m sorry. Bad signal where I am. Uhm…meet me near the famous train tracks…I can help.”

“Train trac–listen, I’m gonna need more than that.”

“It won’t be hard to miss. I gotta go—”

“Negative. I need to know that I can trust you and that I’m not walking into a trap.”

“How else will you know if you don’t take a chance? If you want my help, you’ll show up. I have to go, it’s too many ears close by. Goodbye for now, Terry.”

“Rae. Stand by…I’ll be in contact.”

Terry waited for a response, but none came.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @blackerthings @deja-r @kanafunee @helloncrocs @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @dremmmm @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @kokokonako @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @playgurlxoxo @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[fluffylino]

zombie!minho pt 4

minho finally starts his new meds..but the side effects are a bit strange~

-contains mature themes

"its much stronger than the last medication...thats what the doc told me"

minho announced, telling you word for word what the doctor had prescribed him. he had just stepped back inside after visiting the doctor for his monthly checkup. it was time for a newer improved medication.

"but its effect is immediate. it'll get rid of my sudden fatigue and zoning out"

he took his shoes off, placing it down on the shoe rack.

"and what else?" you asked, hopping around him.

"i have to take two tablets once every month. the yellow one has to be taken before the blue one." minho said, taking his beanie and jacket off. he stretched his arms, dangling the packet infront of your face.

"any side effects?"

"he described it like how you get your period every month for 4 to 8 days, ill get something similar. instead of bleeding, ovulating and all, i'll get some kind of heat."

"heat...as in?"

the kinda heat you knew was the one you had read in abo fanfictions.

well those were...intense. if it were anything like that you weren't prepared.

"my sex drive will increase drastically in the first 24 hours and may persist for the next 48 hours...so basically ill be really fucking horny"

he admitted, sitting down next to you. he leaned his head on your shoulder. so that meant his body would be adjusting. trying to go back to his normal self.

"but he did mention that with every month that side effect will gradually become less. but the first dose is always pretty bad to handle."

"it kicks in about 2 hours after i take it. so i think ill have it tomorrow morning."

"yeah, i am a bit worried though"

how could you not be?

"i doubt it'll be that bad. if it takes away that hunger i feel then i don't mind being horny 24/7"  he joked but you didn't find it that funny.

.

.

"minho..." your voice faded out. "your pant.." he looked down at his pants. there was a wet patch on his crotch. he placed his cup of coffee down. 

"fuck i just showered"

you couldn't help but let your eyes trail down his body. he was hard. and his neck was a shade of dark pink. It had only been an hour and the symptoms were already showing up.

minho disappeared into the room for what seemed like hours. you peeked into the room, mouth dropping open.

he was a complete wreck.

stroking his length at an inhumane pace. choked out moans leaving him. his eyes were shut and his head thrown back against the chair.

stepping inside, you creeped up on him. he didn't notice. that was until you dropped down on your knees infront of him. hands holding his knees in place.

"go away"b minho hissed out. you ignored him, swatting his hand off his dick.

"what are you doi-...aahhh" you took his entire length into your mouth. moaning at the taste of his precum. his fingers tangled into your hair, thrusting up. you gagged at how deep he went.

"i warned you." he gritted out and then you knew you couldn't back out. not like you even wanted to.

.

"min-" you were cut off by his hand.

"i'm going to fuck you right now"

"right here" vhe announced.

bending you over the kitchen counter. you gasped as he pushed into you in one swift motion. he was still hard and leaking. his cum seeped out of you.

your eyes rolling back, at the feeling of it dripping down the insides of your thighs.

"keep it all inside"

you clenched, trying to not let it run down your thighs. but he was so far deep inside your cunt, you couldn't think.

"fill you up. m' gonna breed you. make you take all of me"

"pathetic."

you couldn't help but cry from the overstimulation.

minho never spoke so much during sex. you were used to silence. it was mostly him groaning.

so hearing him say such filthy things made you submit to him completely. made you more compliant. you let him use you. fuck you. breed you. deepthroat you. anywhere. anytime during the day.

"whats wrong? my pretty dick in your slutty little pussy rendered you speechless?"

his fingers pushed your head down, against the ice cold counter. forcing you to stand on your tippy toes, your legs began to shake.

"gonna eat you ah- mark you u-up and show everyone you're mine. all mine."

minho let out in a breathy voice, nipping at your exposed skin. his teeth digging into you just hard enough to leave bruises.  running his tongue over your sensitive skin, to ease the soreness.

"aahhh-nng" you whined, spit rolling off the side of your mouth and onto the counter. you closed your eyes, focusing on him.

him railing you. his other hand intertwined with yours. his hot breath against your back. his thick muscular thighs caging you in. his high pitched moans. his silent praises as you took him so well.

so eagerly. so sweetly.

you were going to cum again for the fourth time. and minho had cum only once. or more like he couldn't cum any faster until he had tired himself out.

now you had finally understood why the doctor had said that.

maybe this was a good thing. he was the most alive he had ever been.

[colouredbyd]

Hi I’m LOVING your hunger games AU with reg! I have a request if that’s okay!! Could you do a angsty fic from sirius’ POV inspired by the song Silver Spoon by Erin LeCount! Cannot wait for more of the Hunger Games Fic!

Silver Spoons And Butter Knives inspired by the song Silver Spoon by Erin LeCount

Sirius Black x fem!reader

summary: Sirius Black carries his last name like a curse, watching warmth from the outside like a starving ghost. Jealous of the love he was never given, and too haunted to accept the love that tries to reach him.

warnings: deep family trauma, fighting, angst, hatred and anger, resentment, jealousy, hurt with some tiny teeny bits of comfort

word count: 2.4k

authors note: the way i RAN to google docs after seeing this request, this is so sirius coded i cant, also I'm so glad u liked my hunger games fic :( ill be posting a new chapter everyday!

masterlist

Sirius Black sat in the garden of a house that wasn’t his, knees drawn up, cigarette burning low between his fingers, the scent of rosemary clinging to his sleeves like something that wanted to stay. The breeze was too gentle, too forgiving. Somewhere inside, a record crackled, jazz slipping through the windows like spilled wine. Someone was laughing—your father, maybe—and someone was humming, and someone was living a life he could only ever press his face up against the glass to see.

It was your childhood home. Unremarkable at first glance, nothing like the cold, echoing halls he grew up in, but it breathed like a living thing, full of warmth and noise and life, ivy climbing the bricks like it had been invited to stay, flower pots chipped with memory, and curtains catching the light in that soft, golden way that made it all feel almost holy. He hated how easily he could imagine you growing up here. A garden with scraped knees and hands in the soil. A kitchen where arguments were loud and always ended in laughter. A hallway lined with photographs, none of them cursed, none of them sneering. A front door that had never once been locked against you.

He had never had that. Not once. Not ever.

Grimmauld Place had never been a home, it had always been a mausoleum. Silence crept through the halls like fog, thick and inescapable. The portraits sneered and spat, the walls listened too closely, and his mother’s voice could split skin like glass. His father never raised his voice, only his expectations, sharp and suffocating. And Regulus—soft-hearted, sharp-eyed Regulus—who used to curl beside him under the dining table during thunderstorms, clinging to his hand like it was the only safe thing in the world. Regulus, who had whispered secrets to him in the dark, who had once trusted him with everything.

Who later looked at him not with hatred, but with something worse: heartbreak. Who kept writing, even after everything, his letters brittle with fear and grief, like he didn’t know how to ask for help without sounding like an apology. Regulus hadn’t turned away because he stopped loving—he turned away because he didn’t know how to keep surviving in a house that only rewarded silence. He was still good. Just tired, trying to stay whole in a place that punished softness.And now here he was, choking on the sweetness of your world.

He had thought he wanted this. Normalcy. Warmth. He’d thought if he pressed himself into your life hard enough, he might finally be able to forget the cold. But it wasn’t warmth that met him—it was exposure.

Every corner of your house revealed what he wasn’t. What he had never been. What he had been denied. It lit up the hollow parts of him, the places where love should’ve lived, the places where he’d built anger instead.

He couldn’t even sit still in your living room without feeling like a liar. Couldn’t eat your mother’s roast without resenting the softness it came with. Couldn’t listen to your father’s stories without hearing everything his own father never said. He felt like a thief in a church, like the air here was too good for him.

You didn’t even know you were showing it off—your joy, your ease, your wholeness.

It just leaked from you like sunlight. In the way you laughed without flinching. The way you looked people in the eye and weren’t afraid of what they might find there. The way you didn’t need to prove yourself in every room you entered because you had never been made to feel like you didn’t belong.

You had been loved the right way. L oudly. Messily. Unconditionally. And now, you didn’t even realize what a miracle that was.

And your family. He wanted to scream every time your mother asked if he was eating well, every time your brother grinned up at him like he was someone worth knowing, every time your dad clapped him on the back like he was already part of something.

He wanted to scream because it felt good. Because it felt like a lie. Because he didn’t know how to accept it without wanting to burn it down just to see if it would still reach for him when it was ash.

It was a sickness, this thing curling in his stomach, this grief he hadn’t known how to name until now. He had been raised starving, raised to believe love was earned and only given when you bled the right way for it, and now here he was in a house where love came without warning, without conditions, without punishment, and he couldn’t stand it.

Couldn’t bear the weight of it. Couldn’t stand the way it softened him. Made him feel like a child again. Like a boy who still wanted his mother to say she was proud. Like someone who still believed he might be forgiven.

He had changed his clothes three times before coming. Brushed his hair back too carefully. Bought flowers that didn’t match, didn’t suit the season, crushed slightly in his grip, and you had kissed his cheek anyway. Told him they were beautiful. And he had smiled, because he didn’t know what else to do, and because he was afraid that if he told the truth—that he felt like he was splintering from the inside out—you would look at him differently.

Now, long after dinner, after seconds and thirds and sweet pie and the warmth of a fire that didn’t try to burn him, Sirius sat in the garden, staring at the windows like they might turn on him. Your shadow passed through them. He watched you laugh. Watched you take plates from your brother’s hands and press a kiss to your mum’s cheek, and something inside him cracked, deep and small and quiet.

He wanted it. He wanted it all. And he hated himself for wanting it, for thinking he might deserve it, for not knowing how to hold it without trembling.

Because boys like him weren’t made for peace. They were made in rooms where love was a weapon and silence was safety, and even now, even here, surrounded by everything he’d never had, all he could think about was running. Or ruining it before it ruined him.

His fingers dug into the stone beneath him, grounding himself in the solidness of something, anything, because the air, the garden, the house—it was all suffocating him.

Why did you have to be so… perfect?

He hated it. The softness of your world was a slap to his face, a constant reminder of everything he’d never been allowed to have. A family who did things together. Parents who loved without fear of it being torn away.

It wasn’t just jealousy. It wasn’t that simple. It was resentment. Desperation. The kind that churned in his stomach, clawed at his insides like he might throw up his own heart.

Sirius had fled from the suffocating halls of their home when he was barely a teenager, escaping into a world that hadn’t wanted him, but he couldn’t have gone far enough to outrun the shame. The shame of being cast out, the shame of being unwanted, the shame of knowing his family only reached out with letters full of threats, letters that burned like acid every time they arrived.

What would they think of me now?

He hated himself for thinking about them. Hated that their poison still seeped into everything good. Even this, even you, your family’s love—he couldn’t touch it without feeling that burn.

He heard the soft creak of the door opening behind him, and without turning, he knew it was you. He didn’t need to look. You moved like sunlight, like something gentle, and he could already feel the weight of it pressing into him.

“Sirius?” Your voice was soft, uncertain. You didn’t have to ask—you already knew he was out here, the same way you always knew. How could you not?

Mum said to come inside. It’s getting late.

You didn’t say it like you were inviting him. You said it like you were trying to save him. But the truth was, you weren’t going to save him. Not from this. Not from himself.

“I’m not coming,” he said, the words slipping out sharper than he meant. He didn’t want to be inside—not tonight. Not surrounded by laughter that felt like static, by comfort that pressed against his ribs until he couldn’t breathe. But even as the words landed, they burned. He hated the way they sounded. Hated how they hurt you.

Your steps faltered, just a moment, but it was enough. He could hear it in your breathing, that small, painful hesitation that made his gut twist. You wanted to fix it, didn’t you? You wanted to heal what was broken in him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Okay,” you said softly, and his heart shattered. “But you should wear a coat, its really cold out here.”

Why do you keep trying?

You couldn’t understand. Not in the way he wanted you to. You couldn’t see the way his soul had been carved into jagged edges, torn by a family that had never seen him as a person, only as an extension of their own power. You couldn’t feel the poison running through his veins, turning every kind gesture into something bitter.

He was going to ruin this. He was going to ruin you.

“Your family’s too perfect,” he muttered, eyes flicking away. “It’s fake.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, too cold. “The smiles. The questions. The way they act like they care. People like them don’t mean it. They just want to look good.”

Your breath hitched, quiet and hurt. “Sirius, they do care. They love me.”

“Right,” he said, a bitter laugh twisting out of him. “And I’m supposed to sit there and pretend I know what that looks like?”

You stepped closer, cautious. “This isn’t about them. This is about you.”

“No,” he snapped. “It’s about how you don’t get it. You can’t get it. You grew up with lights on and warm dinners and someone holding your hand when you cried. You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in a house where silence means safety.”

You were quiet for too long.

And when you spoke, it was with the softest ache.

“I don’t want to be your enemy just because I was lucky.”

And that was the wound. That was the cut.

“You don’t get it,” he spat, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but it didn’t matter. It was already out. “You don’t know what it’s like to live in a house where every smile is a lie, where love is just a word used to manipulate you. Where your own family tells you you’re nothing.”

The silence between you two stretched, thick and uncomfortable, suffocating him like the weight of his own rage. He didn’t want to see you like this—hurt, confused—but he couldn’t stop it.

You were still standing in front of him, and he could feel your eyes on him, soft but steady, and it made him feel weak.

“I know,” you said, your voice a whisper now, as if you were afraid of the storm in his words. “I know it’s hard. But… you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Sirius closed his eyes, his chest tightening. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to feel this. He didn’t want you to see him break, to see how much he needed this love, needed this warmth, even though he couldn’t accept it. It would break him.

“I am pretending,” he bit out, his voice hoarse. “Pretending that it doesn’t matter. Pretending that I’m okay when I can’t even look at you without wanting to tear this all apart.”

He turned his face away, breathing heavily, his anger and sorrow swirling into one tangled mess he couldn’t sort out. He hated himself. He hated how much he wanted this.

Your voice was quiet, but it cut through the chaos inside him. “You don’t have to do this alone, Sirius.”

But he felt like he was already too far gone. Too broken to be fixed, too shattered to be put back together.

“I’m not like you,” he said, his voice cracking, too raw. “I can’t have what you have. I’ll just ruin it. I’ll ruin you.”

You were quiet for a moment, and when you spoke again, your voice was small, almost fragile. “Then let me help you,” you said softly. “I’m here. You don’t have to be alone.”

Sirius’s chest tightened, the words clawing their way into him, unbearable, because he wanted it so badly, wanted you to pull him in and fix the things that had been broken for so long. But he couldn’t let you. He wouldn’t let you.

Instead, he stood up, unable to stay still any longer, the weight of the moment too heavy. “I can’t… I’m not ready. I’m not someone you can fix.”

And maybe if he’d just nodded, maybe if he’d just said yes—none of it would’ve happened.

But Sirius Black had never learned how to receive something without bleeding all over it.

And before you could say anything, he turned and walked away, retreating to the place he knew best—the silence of the garden, where he could wallow in his own despair and let the feeling of being unworthy, of being broken, swallow him whole.

authors note again: requests are open :D

[becertainlust]

WHAT'S UP DOC? | GRIMMJOW JAGERJAQUEZ

synopsis: A doctor is a busy person but he just can't seem to help himself

content: smut.

The office was still — the quiet kind of still that only crept in after the final patient had left, and the world outside had forgotten this place even existed.

You hadn’t meant to stay late, but the paperwork had piled up, and the silence was comforting. You’d taken off your coat, loosened the first few buttons of your blouse, and kicked off your shoes under the desk. That’s how he found you. Not stiff in your white coat and professional poise — but warmly enticing .

Grimmjow never knocked.

He stepped inside like he owned every inch of the clinic—the hush in the hallway, every flicker of light across the walls, even the helpless catch of your breath. With that trademark cocky grin, he sauntered over and flopped himself onto your patient examination table, limbs splayed in casual confidence. His scratches weren’t serious—he could have stitched them himself—but tonight he wanted your careful hands.

“Thought you’d left for the day,” you managed, voice steadier than you felt.

He lifted one brow, flashing teeth. “And miss seeing you all alone? Never.” He stretched, exposing the crisscross of shallow cuts along his ribs. “Your turn to patch me up, doc.”

His flirtatiousness was dangerous. As reckless as he was, those soft baby-blue strands of hair framed a face carved sharp enough to cut. There was a wildness in his gaze that both thrilled and warned you — like playing with fire while knowing you might just get burned. But tonight, under the dim clinic lights, it was impossible not to be pulled in.

By the time your back hit the cabinet, you were already moaning into his mouth. He’d swept you into his arms without a word, lips finding yours with a hunger that had simmered for too many days and too many nights apart.

Now, he had you lifted, arms braced under your thighs, your legs wrapped around him, and his cock buried deep inside you. And not a single file or form or patient chart could have pulled you back into focus — not with the way he moved.

Slow. Measured. Like he wanted to feel every flutter of your walls, every catch of your breath.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to see your face. His eyes were heavy with heat, but sharp — watching you, cataloging the way your lashes fluttered every time he thrust just a little deeper. “Meltin’ on me already.”

Your fingers tangled in the strands at the back of his neck, nails grazing his scalp as your head fell back.

“Grimmjow…” you breathed, voice thin and tremulous.

He kissed your throat as he rocked into you again, slow and deliberate. His hips moved like a tide — inescapable, rolling, claiming more of you with each pass.

“That’s it. Feel every inch,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin. His hand slid up your spine, fingertips dragging over the bumps of each vertebra with care that didn’t match the possessive grip he held you with. “I want you to remember this tomorrow. When you’re at your desk… legs sore… pussy still aching for me.”

You whimpered, your body jerking as he adjusted his angle. He knew exactly where to hit — exactly how to find that sweet spot that made your thoughts spiral and your muscles tighten.

“Fuck—Grimm—” Your voice broke, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He laughed softly, deep and satisfied. “There it is.”

His mouth found yours again, but this time it wasn’t rough. It was slow, all lips and tongue and heat. Like he had all night to taste you. Like he wanted to drown you in it. And he did — every flick of his tongue stole something from you, stole another ounce of clarity until you were lost in the feel of him.

You felt like you were unraveling. Like your brain couldn’t focus on anything but the deep, rhythmic thrusts of his cock and the way his chest pressed against yours with every movement.

He shifted again — deeper this time — and you broke.

A choked moan escaped your lips, and you collapsed against him, forehead pressed to his shoulder. Your walls fluttered around him, overwhelmed by the stretch, the fullness, the sheer worship behind his control.

Grimmjow groaned as he felt you tighten. “That’s what I like… all soft for me now, huh?”

You nodded helplessly, body trembling.

He didn’t speed up. He didn’t need to. Every stroke felt like he was carving his name inside you. He moved like he knew you were teetering on the edge — like he wanted to hold you there, suspended, deliciously out of control.

Your thoughts scattered like the papers on your desk — blown away by the growing wave building low in your belly. Every time he pulled out just a little, your walls clenched around the emptiness, only to cry out when he filled you again.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” he whispered against your ear, his voice low and coaxing. “Can feel it. You’re so close…”

You could only nod, your breath stuttering, fingers fisting in his hair.

And then he thrust just a little harder, his thumb slipping between you to find your clit — one slow, perfect circle that pushed you over the edge.

You came with a cry, body locking around him as the pleasure bloomed outward — full-body, shaking, raw. He held you through it, murmuring softly as your body trembled in his arms.

“Shit… that’s it. So fuckin’ pretty when you come.”

You barely had time to recover before he groaned, thrust deep one last time, and spilled inside you with a sharp curse and a low growl against your neck.

Afterward, the silence returned. Not empty — but full. Full of breath and warmth and the soft tremble of muscle trying to remember how to relax.

He rested his forehead against yours, still inside you, still holding you like something precious.

“Guess I’m interruptin’ your shift,” he teased.

You laughed breathlessly, brushing your fingers over his jaw. “You just gave me the best part of it.”

He kissed you again — slower this time, no urgency. Just the kind of kiss that said he could spend the rest of the night with you in this office and still want more.

[sayojin]

who said that?! wasnt me

the fucked up hypno x hels saga continues, yall need to stop enjoying this so much so i can be free of these freaks /derogatory

drawing ppl kissing is like my worst fkn nightmare. why the hell is it so damn hard 😭 i cant even be insane to my full potential. this is as good as it gets. to be fair it was my own damn fault for picking a stupid pose. made me forget what they even look like

anyways

how about we take a moment to consider the dynamic between fucked up hypno (or vulbeepno as i like to call him(vulture bee hypno)) and wels

wels feeling bad that he cant bring hels out to satisfy hypnos cravings and trying to offer himself up instead which would likely only piss hypno off, that is, until he caves of course. huehehe

tw, sayo's writing! blurb from the forbidden google doc of evilness, peering into vulbeepno's mind

the hair clung to his back in mesmerizing patterns. sweat glazing his shoulders. hypno scraped his gaze along each winding curl on the tacky canvas of wels' skin and wondered if the strands would catch in his teeth were he to bite into the souple muscle between his neck and shoulder.

what an annoying train of thought. were hels here, he wouldnt even have to hesitate before ripping into him. hels would only further urge him to tear him to shreds.

however, it was foolish to think hed be so lucky. hels had not presented in nearly two months time. he could only suck on his own teeth for so long before his hunger takes the reins.

wels was a good guy though. he didnt need more scars.

maybe if he was more like mumbo, whatever that meant, people would be more willing to be open minded. mumbo's bloodlust is a pitiful disability whereas his is a perverse aberration. blood coats their tongue either way, hypno didn't get the distinction.

and we're retiring the forbidden google doc of evilness back into the shadow realm and never speaking of this again, ive said my piece

[maviscat123]

ORIGINAL STORY BY CHUBBYMENVORE.

Ron pulled into his driveway and up into the garage of his small suburban home. He carefully parked the car and shut off the engine of his cheap sedan, the noise of the engine finally stopped ringing in his ears. He rubbed his eyes, the long week finally coming to an end. He reached over to the passenger seat, initially going for his briefcase, before a small green object caught his eye. An old baseball cap, with a worn rim and a logo he recognized from the local university sport teams was on the floor. In his burnt-out state it took him a few seconds to remember who it belonged to. It finally dawned on him that it belonged to this nice young man he picked up at the bar a few weeks ago. A familiar feeling washed over him as he picked up the hat. The young guy followed him back to his seedy motel room in the hopes of getting laid, but Ron was there for a different urge.

The older man looked down at his belly. He was in his mid 50s, but he'd been dealing with his problem for over 3 decades. Back in his 20s, he started having problems with his appetite. He suddenly became insatiable. It got so bad that he ate entire months worth of groceries in a single sitting. Nothing would satisfy. He went to the doctor, and with just one look the doc told him words that would haunt him.

Being told he was a Pred and his problems stemmed from not eating enough put him in a downer mood. He initially tried to live with it, swearing not to eat anyone. He lasted a few weeks, but eventually, just like every Pred, he relented when he saw his neighbor swimming next door. It was his first meal, and it drove him wild. Swallowing the man was second nature to him, not even having to pause or slow himself as he easily wolfed him down. After being hungry for so long he finally had the relief he so desperately needed. That full feeling. It was euphoric for him. His big pot gut wiggling about as his poor neighbor struggled in vain was too good to pass up. Despite that amazing feeling, he swore off eating others.

It didn't last, however. A little over a month later, the hunger came back. He tried to hold it off, but it never subsided. He relented again and again. He ate a co-worker, a mail man, a multitude of delivery guys, another neighbor, and finally one of his good friends over the course of a few weeks. He finally asked the doc for help, and he was put on some appetite suppressants. After months of eating dozens of poor guys, he finally had his insatiable appetite under control with the help of the meds. Even now, years later, they had helped him live a somewhat normal life. However, now a few decades later, they were starting to lose their edge.

He'd been hiding his 'affliction' from everyone. His co-workers, his boss, his friends, but most importantly; his family. Most of the time it wasn't a concern, as his medication kept his urges in check. Some days though his primal needs slipped through, and he had to relent. There were no early warnings for him, just randomly at some point in the day he would become ravenous. His stomach would ache like it had been withheld food for days. And he started seeing everyone as a delicious 3 course meal all in one.

Sometimes it would be months, and even had gone over a year a few times without having to eat some poor guy. Hiding it from his son, however, was usually pretty easy. His urges would usually come around lunchtime, and he would take the day off of work and go find somebody he could stuff down his gullet. He'd gone to dating sites, hookup apps, and local bars to find someone he could easily lure to some dark private corner to wolf them down to appease his appetite.

His hunger had almost gotten him caught once though. Shane and his buddies had gone out to the bar and invited him to come along. Ron knew all of Shane's friends for a while now so having him come along wasn't awkward or out of place for them. The night was going fine right up until Ron felt that unmistakable rumble deep in his belly. He knew he couldn't leave or hold off for the night. It had been over a year since his last Pred urges had called, and he needed to sate it. It was like an itch that could never be relieved, unless he had some poor man digesting away in his gut.

He went to the bar's restroom and scouted out a meal. He waited in the big stall at the end for potential meals to come in, peeking through a small crack in the door. Men came and went while he sized each of them up. Too big. Too small. Too skinny. Not meaty enough. Too drunk. Too strong looking. He profiled everyone like he was picking off a menu. Finally, some chunky blue-collar type walked in, and Ron picked his mark. Without any hesitation, Ron dragged him into one of the stalls and worked him into his mouth. It wasn't dignified or pleasant for either of them, but it had to be done. He couldn't even remove his clothes since he had to hide the evidence. It took several minutes, but soon Ron was alone in the stall, with a gut jutting almost 5 feet from his chest, bulging, squirming, and stretching in every direction.

He braced himself against the wall of the stall. He hated this part. Despite how good it made him feel, he was always guilty about it. Having to put someone through this ordeal to satisfy himself. To keep himself from going off the deep end from having to endure his never-ceasing hunger. He sat back on the toilet, letting his gut rest on his lap as he tried to put the thoughts of what was happening in his gut out of his mind. He tried to reason with himself like he always did, justifying his actions with the notion that it would be over for his meal soon and how he wasn't as bad as other Preds who ate people daily.

Ron had gotten away with it. His gut was satisfied, and nobody was the wiser. At least he thought that for a few moments until he heard his son walk in the bathroom and call for him. They were getting ready to leave and were waiting for him. He was stuck, a great gut full of squirming meat, and a time limit before his son would get suspicious. He tried to digest faster. He squeezed his gut. Kneaded the bulges down. Tried to do up his shirt to hide his girth. Nothing worked.

He belched out his air, which at least caused him to lose a bit of girth. He had to hurry. He squeezed harder, but the distinct man shaped bulge in his gut was too obvious to hide. He tried to reorient his meal to hide it better, but his gut soon started to gurgle loudly. Digestion had started, but it would take hours and hours to churn his meal down to where his gut looked normal. He had an idea, but it was cruel. He had no other choice and had to go for it. He backed up to one side of the stall and ran, gut first, into the wall. A sickening crunch was heard, before all movement in his gut ceased. The bulges had smoothed out slightly, and with some more kneading and squeezing, he got his belly looking presentable, albeit significantly larger than before.

Neither Shane nor any of his friends caught on to Ron's excess girth he had suddenly claimed from his long trip to the restroom. They all drove home in the car with him, all unaware of the extra passenger Ron had taken on in the bar's restroom. He swore off eating with his son so close by ever again. He tried to put it out of his mind, but all he could think about the entire drive home was the sharpness of the crunch when his gut hit the wall. It played in his mind every time they went back to that bar, but like every meal he had ever eaten, their last moments stuck with him.

He'd only eaten a few dozen people over the years, and the young man he took to the motel room from a few weeks ago was one of them. He had some fun with him, but the entire time he knew what was coming. He tried to hold himself back, but he couldn't help himself. He tried several times to let him go, even while in the middle of eating him. He tried to pull him out of his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to let his food go. He stayed awake all that evening as he lay on the cheap motel bed, full of regret of what he was putting this young man in his stomach through. It wasn't right, but he couldn't undo what he did. His gut slowly going from wiggling, to still, to loudly digesting his meal away. His hunger was sated, and he hoped it would be for the last time.

Ron took the hat with him as he got out of his car. He sighed as he squeezed his girth between his car and the wall of his garage. He tossed the hat into one of his trash bins as he passed by, disposing of the last of his previous meal. Walking into his house he was met with a loud cacophony of shouting, dramatic music, and some explosions of some kind all coming from his den. It took him a moment in his tired state to realize it had to be a movie of some kind. He walked into the den and saw 8 young men all splayed out on the furniture watching the movie. The room had a large sectional couch sitting in front of a large TV, and there were all kinds of snacks and food on the cheap coffee table. They were somber all things considered.

His son Shane had friends over. Being a Friday, it wasn't uncommon for Shane and his buddies to hang out and drink and have a fun night playing games or watching movies. His son still lived with him and helped pay the bills since he wasn't going to college, and rather instead took a labor job down at the docks. It was where all he and his friends worked together. They had the weekends off, so they mostly just drank, smoked, and goofed off on their days off, all happy with where they were in life.

"Evening lads." Ron announced.

"Hey Mr P!" Wes, one of Shane's friends waved.

"Hey Dad! Work okay?" Shane asked, grabbing a few of the nachos from the table.

"Not too shabby. You guys need anything?" Ron asked.

"Nah I think we're good. We got a bunch of snacks in the kitchen, and we ordered a bunch of pizza." Shane said.

"Good. I'll be in my room reading." Ron said.

"Okay Dad. Help yourself to some of our snacks if you want."

"Will do." Ron said as he left the room.

He made his way to the kitchen and saw a bunch of snacks all over the counter. There were chips, cookies, mini doughnuts, brownies, tubs of cookie dough, cinnamon rolls, pastries, pizza rolls, cream puffs, fries, bagels bites, and a load of others all over the counter.

"Jeez." Ron gasped. He knew that his son and his friends ate a lot, but this was a ton of food even by their standards.

He grabbed a few pizza rolls and a cinnamon roll. While munching on them, he scrolled through his phone and caught up on some news articles. When he finished, he decided to go relax in his room and read more of his novel for the evening until he would make something for dinner. As he was leaving, he saw the brownies, which were his favorite. They were homemade, and there were four square trays, but one was empty and another had a few taken already. He shrugged and grabbed three, slowly eating them as he made his way to his bedroom.

Ron unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open, letting his large beer belly and large fat pecs jut out from their confines. He sighed as he took off his pants, leaving his underwear on as he lay on his bed. He stretched out and scratched at the light hair by his navel, letting his gut rest above him like a small hill. He grabbed his novel and reading glasses from his night table and settled in, opening up his book to where he last left off.

-

20 minutes later, Ron felt sleepy. It was weird for him to feel this way so early since he had a consistent sleep schedule. He closed his eyes for a few minutes until he was awoken by a loud noise.

*GLORP*

He put his book down on the bed and listened. He heard it again, but it got slightly louder. He sat up from the bed and his belly rumbled deeply.

*GUUUURGLE*

His belly suddenly ached with hunger. It felt like he hadn't eaten anything all day, which was mostly true. He grumbled as he thought that he should have some actual dinner. He got up and grabbed his house coat and put it on, his gut making it hard to fully close. He made his way back into the kitchen to get some food when he saw the snacks again. Several of the snacks were gone and several plates were empty. He noticed the brownies were still there and grabbed another three while he opened the fridge to make some sandwiches. As he was eating the brownies, his belly began roaring at him, demanding more. He began cramming the brownies in, barely chewing as he wolfed them down.

"Why am I so hungry?" He looked down at his large gut while it churned and burbled. The brownies soon weren't enough, so he grabbed more snacks. He finished off the tray of brownies and grabbed the twinkies. He barely unwrapped them before he shoved them in his mouth and swallowed them down. He grabbed a tub of cookie dough and ripped the lid off. He tiled his head back and dumped the entire extra-large tub into his mouth. He forced his mouth closed and swallowed, letting the massive 20lb lump of cookie dough slide down his gullet and drop into his belly.

"Ahh." Ron gasped as he felt the cookie dough reach his belly. His gut stopped grumbling and he felt satisfied for the moment. He returned to the sandwiches he was making before.

And then his belly roared again, the hunger returning almost tenfold. He quickly went through the next 3 tubs of dough and tossed the empty containers aside. He anxiously grabbed more food, gulping it down as fast as he could. With most of the snacks finished, he sought to raid the fridge. He opened the fridge and grabbed anything he could and shoved it in, some things still even had wrappers on them. His belly began to swell as it continued to rumble in extreme hunger. He saw the chicken sitting on a platter in the fridge. He gasped as he reached in and grabbed it in pure desperation. He opened his mouth and shoved it in. He felt his throat open wide to accommodate the cooked bird as he crammed it between his lips. Once it was fully in his mouth, he closed his lips and laboriously swallowed. He could feel the large lump stretch out his throat as it slowly descended down his fat neck and vanished into his belly. His belly swelled out further with the addition. His housecoat's belt came undone, letting his gut jut out of the front.

Again, the hunger subsided for a moment and again it came back. He continued to cram anything he could in his mouth. Apples, oranges, eggs, lettuce, cake, chicken, cold cuts, cheeses, peppers, milk, melon all went down his gullet and into his belly. The sandwiches were out of the question now as he had eaten the entire loaf of bread whole, along with the other 4 of them. He finally reached for the watermelon. He pulled it out of the fridge and placed it on the counter. He quickly looked for his large knife to cut it but couldn't find it.

"Fuck it." Ron muttered. He grabbed the melon and opened his mouth wide. He pushed and crammed the large melon into his mouth. He felt his jaw stretch wider and wider as more of the melon was pulled in. His lips finally slid over the widest part of the melon, and it began to slide in faster. In one massive gulp, Ron powered the large melon down his gullet. He clawed at his throat to help it down as the large lump made its way down and finally vanished into his large belly. Ron gasped as he felt the melon land in his gut among the other food he had swallowed.

"Hey Mr P." A voice said.

Ron turned around to see Simon, one of Shane's friends, standing there. He was carrying 8 extra large pizza boxes.

"Uh Hi Simon." Ron said, his belly grumbling loudly.

"You okay?" Simon asked while he put the pizza on the counter. "Your stomach is really loud."

"Yeah.." Ron trailed as the grumble grew louder. "I'm just really hungry."

"Well do you want some pizza? We got a lot." Simon said, opening the box on top of the stack to reveal an extra-large greasy pepperoni pizza.

Ron licked his lips as his belly roared and grumbled loudly.

"Sounds like a yes to me Mr P." Simon laughed.

Ron didn't even acknowledge Simon's cheekiness as he grabbed a slice of pizza and crammed it into his maw. Simon watched in awe as his friend's dad shoved the 8-inch pizza slice entirely into his mouth and swallowed it down whole.

"Holy shit." Simon gasped as Ron grabbed another slice and stuffed it in.

Ron quickly finished the second slice and grabbed another two. He shoved both of them in at the same time and swallowed them both in one go.

"Sorry. I don't know whats going with me but I'm just so hungry." Ron apologized as he grabbed another two slices and gulped em down.

"Well here let me help Mr P!" Simon offered, handing him the last two slices of the first pizza. Ron quickly swiped them and stuffed them in.

"*Gulp* ...more." Ron moaned. His head began spinning as his hunger was making him loopy.

Simon opened the next box and handed him slice after slice, each time Ron grabbing them from his hands and shoving them in his mouth. After the 6th pizza, Simon got too close and Ron accidentally grabbed his hands along with the slices and stuck them in his mouth. Before Simon or Ron could even register what had happened, Ron swallowed, pulling Simon's hands into his throat and pulling his arms in. The two were face to face for a moment as they both realized what was happening.

"M-M-Mr P?" Simon trembled.

Ron's face gave an 'I'm Sorry' look and he opened his mouth wide. Before Simon could shout, Ron clamped his mouth over Simon's head. Ron's mouth stretched wide around Simon's blocky head. He was a bit larger than most of the meals Ron had eaten over the years, but right now Ron was more concerned with having Simon in his gut than the consequences of it. He gluttonously wolfed down his son's friend's shoulders, not even bothering to remove his meal's shirt. The poor guy tried to wiggle his way out of Ron's mouth, but he couldn't gain an inch of ground. Ron's jaws ached as he had to open them wider to engulf Simon's small pot gut and wide hips, but his hunger pains greatly outweighed his care for anything other than having his belly full.

Getting to Simon's legs, Ron had to reorient his meal to work the rest of him down. He recklessly tossed his head back, making Simon's legs flail about as they were brought above him, quickly sinking downwards as Ron chugged the hefty thighs down his throat. The old man stood in his kitchen, housecoat splayed open as his gut surged forward as more of Simon was crammed inside. His gut contorted and bulged as Simon's face was pressed tightly against the walls of his stomach, stretching out his flabby gut so much that you could see his expression of terror. Finally, Ron worked Simon's feet into his mouth, not even stopping to remove his socks before gulping down the rest of his meal in a flash.

Ron carefully propped himself up against the counter as Simon attempted to thrash about inside his gut. He quietly moaned as his gut's aching hunger slowly disappeared, turning into that euphoric feeling of a stuffed belly. He looked down at his accomplishment, seeing the round spherical belly he once had turn into a misshaped ball of squirming flab jutting from his chest. He carefully lifted his gut and hovered it over the counter, before dropping it and taking the weight off his legs. He could hear Simon's muffled shouts just barely through his gut, but they were too quiet to make out. It wouldn't matter anyway, as nothing he could say or ask would change his predicament.

As the full feeling washed over him, regret immediately set in. He'd known Simon for a few years now. Shane had been out of school for some years and had brought him home from work one day along with a few other friends. They've had barbecues and all gone out drinking together at some bars, plus Ron sees him and everyone else almost every weekend. But that was now over. Simon was in his gut, and there was no changing that. He, like everyone else Ron had ever swallowed, would be nothing more than a few extra pounds by morning.

Ron carefully reached over and grabbed the last two pizza boxes. He quickly ate his way through the last two pies and stifled a belch. He cautiously pulled his squirming gut off the counter and re-centered himself, getting used to the few hundred pounds of food in his gut. His regret soon took over, tearing at himself internally to let his meal go. Simon would tell Shane and he would lose everything in his life that mattered. All the strife over his insatiable appetite. He changed his thought process like he did every time he ate someone. It was no longer Simon anymore in there, it was a big slab of meat waiting to be digested. And that is food's only purpose: to satisfy.

He grabbed the empty pizza boxes and took them back to his room, careful not to let his belly throw him off balance. He hoped that Shane and his other friends wouldn't miss Simon too much. At least for the night so he could get away with it without having to tell his son that he swallowed his friend. He knew in the long term though Shane and his friends would probably be a bit broken up about never seeing him again, without knowing that Shane's voracious dad had eaten him like an oversized hotdog. Ron hoped that if they didn't see the pizza, they could assume Simon had gone home and it hadn't arrived yet, or Simon had to go get it. Either way it provided him with some deniability of what had transpired, as long as none of them saw his big Simon-shaped gut protruding from his torso.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his gut hanging down between his legs. His food was still moving about, but somewhat slower. It had to be awful trapped inside the cramped space, but Ron tried to put the thought out of his mind. He carefully leaned back and lay down, letting his gut rest on top of him. He could still see Simon's face pressed again his gut, which made him shut his eyes. He tried to put the image of what he saw out of his mind, but he knew that's all he would ever think about when he heard Simon's name.

-

Ron didn't know how much time had passed, but his eyes shot open when he felt that unmistakable twinge once again. He looked down at his gut, the whole thing vibrating with hunger despite it still being packed with food. Simon was still moving around inside, and clearly unhappy with those wet gurgling noises all around him. Ron tried to ignore it, but it was unbearable. He reached over to his nightstand and looked at the appetite suppressants. He read over the bottle while his gut rumbled loudly.

"Take 1 pill 1 time(s) a day."

He scoffed as he read the directions. He read further and finally saw what he hoped for.

"Maximum 4 a day."

He breathed a sigh of relief as he popped open the bottle and tossed another 3 pills in his mouth. He gulped them down and lay back in his bed, hoping that it wouldn't take long for the pills to take effect. He grit his teeth as the rumbling ramped up. He finally relented and stood up, the weight of his belly not even in the back of his mind. He threw on his housecoat again and stomped down to the kitchen to find anything else he could hork down until his meds kicked in. He threw open cupboards and ate anything edible. Spices, condiments, cans of goods, even a sack of potatoes all went down without prejudice. As he was chugging back a can of tomatoes, Norm, one of Shane's other friends walked in.

Ron almost gagged as he hid the can behind his back and leaned himself behind the kitchen island to hide his gut that held his friend. He put on his best 'casual but trying to hide that I ate your friend' face he could.

"Hey Mr P." Norm said. "Are you hungry for some pizza?"

"Oh, uh sure." Ron said. "Did you order some?"

"Yeah. We ordered some a while ago, but it never came. We called the store, and they sent out some more." Norm shrugged.

"Oh, that's too bad. Must have got the wrong house." Ron lied.

"Oh well it happens. Have you seen Simon?" Norm asked. "I think he went home, but none of us remember him saying he was leaving."

"Nope." Ron lied again. "Maybe he was tired from work."

"Haha yeah. Boss put us through the ringer today. Some team fell behind, so we had to cover for them." Norm shrugged. "That or maybe the weed made him tired. Those pot brownies make him sleepy."

The gears in Ron's head chugged for a minute before it all clicked.

"P-pot brownies?" Ron stuttered.

"Yeah. Hoss made them this morning. Its why we got all these snacks. They make you feel great, but oh boy do they make you famished." Norm said as he checked his phone.

Ron's eyes watered from the churning his gut was doing. He found out why he was so hungry at least. But now, 12 whole pot brownies down, his hunger was out of control. Ron's gut let out another ground rumbling roar in hunger which made Norm look up from his phone and laugh.

"Wow. Guess it's good that pizza will be here soon. You sound like you haven't eaten for days."

Ron didn't answer. He stared at Norm, a single glob of drool dripping down from his lip where his toothy grin glimmered. Norm looked down at his friend's dad's gut jutting out from his housecoat. The distinct human shaped bulge crammed tightly inside twitching fruitlessly. Norm gasped as his gaze looked up to Ron, who was already standing right in front of him. He saw that enormous wide-open maw hovering above him, the large tongue covered in slimy drool and the deep dark pulsating gullet beyond it.

Before Norm could realize Ron's intent, it was already too late. In a primal act of gluttonous hunger, Ron pounced on his son's friend, shoving his entire head, shoulders, and chest down his throat with one enormous swallow. Norm wasn't much smaller than Simon, but Ron's voracity had tripled since then. Ron held Norm's arms at his sides tightly as he lifted him up and began to stuff him in like a foot long sub sandwich. Norm's legs kicked wildly, knocking into some pans hanging from the rack above the island. Ron swallowed his big meal with such speed and force, he didn't even get to taste him.

With another toss of his head, Norm's legs went right up to the ceiling, dropping down several inches with each insatiable gulp Ron took. His neck stretched and bulged, and his gut swelled forward as he worked Norm down, his gut becoming tighter and more cramped as Norm was forced to nuzzle up next to Simon inside. There wasn't much fanfare when Ron finished him off, instead only stifling a belch as to not alert anyone in the next room that their friend had become a part of Ron's evening menu.

His belly, now twice as large, still ached. Ron was going mad now. How could some minuscule brownies make him so hungry that two 250lbs men plus almost a quarter ton of food not satisfy his hunger. He shook his gut in anger to quell it, but all it did was shake his poor occupants around in the swarths of food stuffed inside with them. Just as he was about to blurt out some profanities, the doorbell rang. He stopped for a minute, and then remembered what Norm had said about the pizza.

He flew to the foyer, lucky that he didn't have to go past the den to get to it and flung open the door. He shouted to the den that he would answer the door so nobody would see him in this state. At least anyone else that mattered to him. Some portly pizza guy was standing there, arms carrying 8 more extra-large pizzas. He was about to hand Ron the pizzas, but Ron instead stepped outside onto the porch and shut the door behind him.

"Hey sorry about my co-worker. I think he must've gotten the wrong house earlier. We've given you 30% off to make up for it so your total is-"

Ron couldn't wait through his spiel. Right out on his porch, he stuffed the unfortunate pizza guy's head into his mouth and began swallowing. The pizza clattered to the floor, along with the 3 delivery bags and his car keys. The pizza guy's arms quickly went up to Ron's mouth to try and pry him off, but Ron just stuffed his arms in alongside his blocky head. Luckily it was the evening, so he hoped that nobody would notice him wolfing down this portly delivery guy right out in the open.

The greasy pizza-stained shirt added some extra flavor, but Ron wasn't in the mindset to be tasting his food. He was there for quantity not quality at the moment, and this 300lb delivery guy was significantly more substantial than either Simon or Norm. His pot gut gave Ron a slight speed bump, but it didn't help keep him out of Ron's gut in the end. Ron began to cram the guy in just to have him in his gut faster. He needed this man in his belly more badly than anything else in the world. Everything else around him didn't matter, so long as he got this man where he needed him to be; his gut. Gulp after gulp, Ron swallowed him down. The chunky thighs followed him down Ron's throat, and soon the cheap shoes slipped between s. With that final gulp, Ron was now carrying three whole men in his belly.

His hunger finally subsided. It took almost everything edible in the house, and 3 whole men, but his gut grumbled in satisfaction. He moaned happily as it was finally over. He picked up the pizza and went inside, leaving the keys and delivery bag on his porch, along with the driver's car in the driveway. He shut the door behind him and waddled his way back to the kitchen, resting the stack of boxes on his new temporary girth. He opened a single box and munched on a slice to make sure his hunger wouldn't return and to his relief it didn't.

[a-smol-storm-gt-nomfs-blog]

What lies beneath

An au Roman started, I got interested, so here's something I wrote, might not be au cannon to what they imagine though so don't take my story as true. as per usual nomfs, thoughts of death, hard vore mentions? (Dunno he just thinks he's gonna die) Thalasaphobia

Grian sat at the edge of the tank, his hands shaky, He was between feeding the leviathan and not. On one hand, if he fed him Grian might not be eaten, and maybe it would show goodwill, but on the other hand. It might put the leviathan into a food response. It’s more of a reptilian thing: with gators and snakes expressing it the most. Grian knew nothing about the leviathan, besides he was often fed things Grian’s size and larger, no wonder he ate people. He decided to throw the container of chum in, he hoped the poor leviathan wasn’t being starved, it would explain the people eating too. The vet looked down, watching the shiny fish slowly fall farther into the water. He almost lost sight of the fish parts before he saw a shadow move, swallowing the fish down. It was large, orca-sized at minimum, but Gem, if to believed, said he was larger. Maybe whale-sized, but this didn't feel like a healthy whale-sized tank. That could also explain its aggression. “Do you have more for him?” “What? Why would I do that?’ “Do you want me to be eaten?” “Why would he do that, he's been fed.” “This thing isn’t Mumbo-sized; it's larger. Do you think that's going to fill its stomach? Besides you fed it human hybrids, and it's well, eaten people? Doc sighed. “Yeah fine, give me a bit.” Grian nodded and looked down, the fish disappearing into the dark void below. Lights had been there in the beginning. It's possible it bit the cords due to hunger, or maybe it just didn’t like the light, either one made sense. “Hey- hey, buddy?” Grian said softly into the water with, unsurprisingly, no response. “I- uh, I’m Grian, I’m here to check up on you, and- uh, I know you’ve eaten people before so- I hope you won’t with me? I- I’m sorry if you’ve been treated poorly.” No response. “I’m getting you more food, if you didn’t hear, I hope it's enough, I uh- i-if you want to come up and talk it might make it easier.” Grian thinks he saw the shadow down there, maybe waiting for more food. Grian could or thought he saw him, he could see the shadows giving enough of a color difference, but his outline wasn’t visible. The leviathan was supposably eel-like, Grian couldn’t see any of that. All he could tell was that it was a different shade from the background. “I—Can you not eat me, please? I just want to make sure you feel good, feel happy, and make your body feel happy.” He tried, but maybe the leviathan didn’t know English well. There was some movement. “Uhh, but yeah food in a bit, then I’ll go in okay?’ A bit more movement. “Does anything hurt?” There was no movement at that. “Any wounds? Injuries?” No movement. “Uhhh, guessing that's a no.” He paused for a bit. “Are you hungry?” Movement. “Are you going to eat me?” Grian couldn’t make out if the leviathan was moving in response or not, he hoped it wasn’t The next tub of fish showed up and so Grian got down, taking the tub in his arms he then started back up. It was full of whole fish, which was likely better than sending something bloody down. So Grian dumped the fish in—only two tuna, a cod, and a salmon. This was not what Grian was expecting; he was hoping for more, but the mers weren’t necessarily taken good care of in the first place. The fish disappeared, swallowed by the shadow, literally. Grian watched, getting his suit on to prepare for his journey down. “I’ll get Skizz, he has the arm strength and the ability to help you, don’t go in till he’s here.” “I won't!” Grian shouted back. Grian checked his air canisters, they were back up, if the air tube he had attached to him got bitten, or it was too short he’d be able to switch to his mask.

He could hear the keys shifting as skizz ran over. “Hey G!” he waved up, he looked behind seeing Doc wasn’t there he asked. “You sure? I- uh- I can go down instead, just tell me what to do?”

Grian shook his head no. “I’d hate for you to be injured or worse because of me skizz, I don’t know if I’d be able to handle myself for that.”

“And I’d feel just as bad if you disappeared, not to mention poor Mumbo.”

Grian’s heart sank at the orca mer’s name.

“Oh Mumbo,” Grian said, voice shaking.

He took his goggles off for a bit.

“If… God. If anything happens to me, make sure Mumbo stays sane please?”

“Nothing gonna happen!” Skizz said trying to stay positive.

Grian stayed quiet, he wouldn’t consider himself a pessimist, but this was the most dangerous thing he had done in his life.

The vet fixed his mask back on, his body, his breaths shakier than his body.

Grian stood at the edge, his fingers barely touching the platform under him. He couldn’t get himself to move.

The adrenalin sent his heart and head off, running miles an hour while his body couldn’t move an inch. “G”? Skizz had made his way up the latter. The vet turned to meet his gaze, his terrified eyes shown through the goggles. Skizz’s heart dropping was visible on the security officer's face. “You don’t have to do this, no one would call you a coward for backing out.” “Yeah, but what- what if he's hurt? Malnourished? Starving? We can’t see that from up here, or down there.” Skizz sighed. “I get you’re a vet and all, but- it wouldn’t count as you or gems incompetence if that was the case it would be on Doc, he had a dangerous thing that had been known to kill humans, and sent a vet down that- I- ugh, It’s not sitting right with me.” Grian leaned on Skizz’s arm, it felt comforting being with the officer, his arms were large, but not enough to save him from this. Nothing was big enough to save him from this. If Grian let the leviathan die he’d blame himself for not going in, but if he died, he’d die thinking about his friends he’d be leaving behind. Jimmy, the small scared wyrm, and his giant wyrm ‘boyfriend’ Tango. The two separated were so nervous, but together they had this sense of calm, compassion, and a friendship that would be more. What if Grian wasn’t around to see it grow? Gem and Impulse were teasing. Those two were always trying to scare people with horror stories. Skizz tried to get in on it, but he was bad at it; his expressions gave him away. Speaking of Skizz, He was part mer, small amounts, it showed in his eyes, his teeth, and some small fins behind his ears and on his elbows, but beyond that, he was a normal guy, a caring one. And finally Mumbo, oh Mumbo. When Grian first met him he was on the brink of death, wounds, stress, and likely more had the mer in a terrible position. Grian helped him, spending hours with him, talking to him, he broke down the mers walls, watching him heal. Mumbo was one of the best things Grian had. Not that the others weren’t but the two were like siblings, a pod. Grian put a hand on his face, or well his goggles as his eyes shed his fears. Skizz wrapped an arm around the vet, pulling him into a gentle hug and letting him cry it out.  The guard stayed silent, Grian preferred it that way.

After a bit, Skizz rubbed his back and hummed something.

Grian listed, half there, half out of it, his mind preparing him for his possible death.

He took his goggles off to wipe his face once the waterworks stopped. He took some deep breaths in, calming himself some.

He pulled his head back, and Skizz’s arm released.

Grian looked up meeting Skizz’s worried gaze, he then looked down as he put his mask on, telling wordlessly his decision.

The vet caught the guard’s sad expression out of the corner of his eye.

Skizz came in for one last hug from behind. “You’ll make it,” Skizz said trying to stay positive. “You’re a smart guy.”

Grian let out a huff of appreciation. “Thanks skizz.” He said slipping the breathing tub over his mouth.

The guard backed off as Grian slid into the tank.

Skizz did a check with the current equipment, running some things over with Grian.

The vet gave a thumbs up, everything was okay on his end.

Skizz gave one back, but there was a nervous expression on his face.

Grian went under trying to avoid second-guessing himself now.

He let the weights do most of the work, helping him sink.

The vet, despite the situation, was slow in descending, after 5 minutes he could barely make out skizz, he was just a movement of different colors.

Grian decided it was a good time to turn on his headlamp.

The beam showed through the water, it was bright, but even then all he could make out was water, no walls, no ground, just dark deep water. He swallowed nervously but then let himself sink some, taking in usual breaths, he had to refrain from panicking, but he couldn’t breathe too deep, which would take more oxygen. After a bit Grian paused to to make sure the pressure wouldn't get to him, looking up he could barely make out the surface, he was passed the spot where the fish were grabbed, he supposed that was a positive. The vet glanced around, but couldn’t make out anything besides a possible rock ledge, nothing on it. Grian sank a bit more, he aimed the light down below him and could make out the sparkling of some shells and probably sand. He landed softly, lifting some sand, and he looked around. His light landed on some metal-wrapped cords, he could see scratches, and claws rather than teeth. None looked enough to kill the power till he saw an end of it, the other half wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The vet crouched down, it was likely teeth, and looking up he could make out lights. He wondered how bright they were. If Gem was right about their biology, and to be fair Grian trusted her far more than any other source, they liked it dark. He wondered if the leviathan had injured himself during that process. It wouldn’t be surprising. He hoped it wasn’t shocking, though if it was it didn’t kill it, but that could leave a nasty wound. Why would you even put lights in a tank? That could cause so many electrical problems. Not that the place was run well anyway, it was cheap, barely avoiding any laws. Grian was just counting the days where he could buy the business from Doc. The vet checked along the walls for anything possibly dangerous, the leviathan likely needed some UV, that, or some oranges, but he was not sure how much a giant eel would appreciate orange juice. Grian looked up and jumped back, but he managed to make out Gem, he put a hand on his heart and pressed his head to the tank. He could make out the shapeshifter laughing. Once she looked up Grian flipped her off making her crouch over, hands on her legs as she kept laughing. Grian eventually snickered. “Big fish?” Gem asked with her hands as best she could. Grian shrugged and signaled crossing over his eyes, their way of not seen.

Gem hummed and put a finger to her chin for a little. “How are you?” She asked The human vet gave his best nervous back. He got what he guessed was a “fair.” In response, from reading Gem’s lips. The two snapped-in-half cord. Gem looked at it and nodded at his discovery, before writing it down on her small notepad. Once looking back up, Grian did his best to mention the sun or vitamin D. It was a struggle. Grian at first tried to make a sun with his arms, but when that failed he pointed at himself. Gem was confused. He tried instead pointing at Gem, then her hair, she was called ‘redheaded’ but it was orange. Gem played with her hair, looked at it, then glanced with confusion up at Grian. He spelled out the color, and she clocked it. She hummed as she thought about oranges, then wrote something down on her pad, before showing it to Grian. “Vitamin D?” Grian gave a thumbs up and she nodded, scratching off the question mark. The human hummed, looking down and around him. He thought he heard something from the other vet, and after a bit, he looked up.

Gem started shouting, her arm pointing out behind Grian frantically.

The vet turned around and, as he did, saw the leviathan. It paused, eyes near shut as it adjusted to the bright light. 

After some blinking it opened them slowly. 

Grian locked eyes, but as far as he knew the creature didn't know he had done so.

Grian's chest sped up, thankfully he still had the tube near his face, so his increased heart rate wasn't using up the tanks on his back.

All were still, the leviathan's eyes locked on Grian, Grian still doing much the same.

The human started slowly moving downwards, trying to look small. 

Gem must have made some swift movements behind him. 

It was a poor decision. The leviathan taking it as a sign of aggression,dashing at Grian, mouth wide. It’s teeth slammed into the tank's side, and the beast moved sideways, likely misjudging the strike due to the blinding light coming from Grian's head. 

Thankfully the glass seemed fine, it just took more scratches. The breathing line somehow wedged between two teeth, resting against the upper tooth, close to being sliced. 

Grian's eyes were focused elsewhere though, as his light shown directly down the leviathan's mouth, into its throat. 

The human vet was stuck in shock, watching muscles move. The muscles were green and black colors, which reminded him of an orca with the pattern.

Some tapping from the tongue and pulling on the air tube forced Grian back into his senses. He looked towards the direction of the nozzle and made a mad dash through the open area of the leviathan's mouth, missing the teeth by less than half an inch. 

He also pulled a risky, but successful, move pulling the tube out from the leviathan's teeth as he escaped the jaws. 

He swam up as fast as he could. Behind him, he could hear the leviathan pulling back from the glass. It likely turned to chase him, but Grian kept going. 

There were 2 problems… 

Or… Well, 3. The Leviathan was built for the dark, for swimming in the depths while Grian wasn't. The large eel could also stand the pressure change better than him.

Regardless, Grian fought it, he'd rather take a couple of days off work with a scolding than a death. 

In his panic, though, Grian was late to notice another mistake: he hadn't stuck near to the glass. 

A second, for the fact he had left his weights on. 

For a third, he could feel the headache coming.

Grian looked to the side to see the wall, then up, he could make out the sounds of shouting, and what he likely imagined to be the silhouettes of skizz and gem before jaws came over him and snapped. 

separating the breathing cord from Grian. The vet stayed calm enough to pull off the old mask, letting bubbles out of his mouth while he changed to his air tanks. 

Almost as soon as he did he was splashed around, smacking against some teeth, thankfully his tanks held. Grian groaned looking around he saw something reflective stuck in the leviathan’s gums.

He took his chance, swimming down by the tooth he grabbed onto it, feeling the serrations on his fingertips, then wriggled the shiny piece of mettle side to side soon pulling it out.

He tossed it out through the small gap that appeared between the teeth. Then swam up to the roof of the mouth, before pushing up on the leviathan’s hard pallet.

He wasn’t sure if it worked, but the mouth opened to suck water in sending Grian back some.

He fell back onto his tongue. Grian could feel the bumps from the taste buds through his gloves. That’s gross.

Grian got back up again, not for long, as the tongue pressed him to the roof before a swallow.

The vet slid some, so he attempted to wrap his arms and legs around the muscle.

It was so slippery, the leviathan didn’t even swallow and Grian could feel himself sliding.

The human whimpered and tried to pull himself back up.

It was no use though, the leviathan lifted up and swallowed.

Grian tried desperately to grab onto anything, but it was nearly if not impossible to do such.

He let out panicked words through his mouthpiece and once stopped by the throat muscles shakily tried getting his gloves off.

The vet felt his head smashed up into the roof but no swallow.

Seeing as there was no water or at least a level he removed his mouthpiece.

“Wait, wait, don’t.” Grian panicked. “I—if you eat me, you won't be able to digest my suit, and you’ll get sick.” Grian put the mouth part back over. Almost all the leviathan’s movements halted at his words. The throat relaxed, and the walls came in on the vet, but it wasn't forceful, unlike before. He took the mouthpiece off again to beg. “Please let me up, I- I won’t bother you again.” He heard a deep rumble that echoed through the muscles around him. “Look I- I’m sorry I don’t know what people have done to you, but I- I don’t want to hurt you, please let me out.” Grian’s voice broke, a slightly higher pitch coming out at the end of the sentence. He put the mouthpiece back on after, just in case. There was a noise similar to a sigh.

Then a swallow.

The vet panicked, his hands reaching up and grabbing at the throat uselessly, his body was smushed and shuffled around a little due to the force of the muscles.

Grian’s movements have been stopped again, but his hands still reach up at the throat.

The leviathan seemed annoyed as the throat walls came in, his body waved around a little.

Grian’s eyes shut and he let out a scared “Mmmm.”

After a bit it stopped, the vet panted, possible tears in his eyes, his body shaking horrendously with adrenalin that wouldn’t be able to help.

The leviathan seemed happy with that as Grian felt himself moving down.

The human’s hand curled weakly on the throat, his face doing down behind his second arm.

Grian felt a couple of pauses, and how the throat moved with the breathing, he swore he could still feel air running over him but he didn’t think it possible.

The throat shook as a worried coo sounded.

The vet's eyes half closed at that, feeling a bit depressed now.

He took the mouthpiece off again “Please?” He begged again, his voice so broken.

Something pressed in on his side, Grian fought back a whimper, his hands clutching some of the muscle around him, but soon let go not wanting to pain the leviathan. There was a soft purr from the large beast, the rubbing seeming centered around him. Grian wasn’t confident he was in a stomach, but he supposed he could be. That was until he was pushed down, and another, a 3rd, and finally he slid into a more open area. Something in him snapped as he did, he ran to the sides pressing in on the walls trying to upset his stomach. There was a confused “rrrrrr.” that echoed around Grian then the walls came in and compressed him. Grian struggled more not wanting to be digested. After a bit, he was just dropped. A noise echoed, a bit confused and upset. The vet covered his ears not because it was loud, but because he didn’t exactly want to pity the leviathan. After seemingly no effect he looked around frantically with his light. There wasn’t much he could see that would help him out.

He did find where he fell in, but it was about another half of him higher. Grian wasn’t an athlete, and he knew climbing was impossible. But on the brink of death, you’ll try everything, even if it's stupid to try.

Grian stepped back, his feet in the puddle and he tried to run, but the slippery floor just sent him down.

And for a while Grian lay there, pulling a hand to his face as he looked at it. His mind raced with apologies that he’d never be able to say, especially to his co-workers who had all watched it happen.

He remembered the funny memories with them, just the day before how Gem and him got into a tickle match over Grian putting mac on his tuna sandwich.

The vet laughed, it turned to sniffles, then to cry.

Grian curled up and hugged his knees to his chest as he sobbed.

The leviathan must have heard it because after a while he felt rubbing again.

He wanted to yell at it, but he refrained. Grian sobbed for a while, the leviathan possibly purring at his distress. Once the vet stopped he reached up to grab his mouthpiece out, only to realize he hadn’t put it back in since his last begging. How was he still breathing? Grian looked around again, panicked breaths. There was no stinging, weight on his lungs, or other signs that could tell him he was struggling to breathe. The vet managed to calm down a little, was it possible the leviathan had a brood pouch like the mers? He realized now too that no fish were on the bottom, or well maybe a tail but he supposed it cou;d have gotten stuck. Grian moved over and picked it up. As he lifted his head he saw a black sleeve, which looked like a diving suit. The vet swallowed nervously and reached down, pulling at it. He watched a second throat area open. Grian gasped and fell back, letting go of the sleeve, there was no skeleton, except a finger. The vet swallowed his nerves, and went in, pulling out the bone in case it was irritating, throwing the fish’s tail down as well, then came back up tugging the suit part out, it took a bit but then he was flung back, panicking to get out of the puddle he landed in. Grian tasted some on accident, but it tasted like- salt water like was in the aquarium. There was a purr that shook the walls soon after Grian got up, then they moved in. He panicked as he got smushed, and moved. He was disorientated from stress and wasn’t sure what way he was going. He pushed around, stopping to put his mask on when the water hit his back. Thank god he did as he was thrown out the leviathan's mouth, his half the suit in hand. Grian held himself in the water, mostly in disbelief. Eventually, he looked up at the leviathan, it looked back for a little before turning and swimming away slowly. The vet took no time starting to swim up, he paused and looked down, to make sure his pressure change wasn’t too much. He checked his oxygen too, it looked pretty okay. So Grian slowly made his way up, letting out some startled gasps as he broke the surface. The group had gone, likely thinking Grian had died, to be fair he’d had thought the same for himself. The vet pulled himself up, his mind hazed, he was out of it, but he managed to take off his flippers, before heading down. Once on the ground, Grian removed his air canisters, and goggles, before moving and dragging his feet. He wasn’t sure where to but Grian ended up cleaning his head enough to recognize their grieving voices. Someone shouted his name, and the vet locked eyes with a couple of them. Doc himself was sitting on a table, looking shocked, like he’d seen a ghost. Grian felt something smack into, and hug him. It took him a while to look down, Gem had her arms strongly around him as if he’d disappear. It took a lot longer for Grian to raise his hand to put it against her head as she sobbed. “G what happened?” Scar asked. Grian couldn't find himself to answer, his mind still in that moment. He wasn’t even sure if he was alive himself. “Grian?” Skizz asked, a hand finding its way to the human vet’s shoulder. He blinked a couple of times. “I-.” He started but stopped not sure how to continue, but tears started falling from his eyes as his head fell into Skizz’s chest. Skizz hugged both of them, and Scar hugged Gem, Grian, and Skizz. After a little, their boss, Doc, spoke. “Alright soo, you look as pale as a ghost, and from what I’ve heard you at least were in its mouth.” Grian nodded, wiping his eyes. “I’ll give you 4 days, of paid time off, on me, if you need to extend it to a week, tell me.” Grian blinked in surprise. “I’d normally not do this, but, since you’ve come around the mers seem happy and healthier, so I’ll allow it. Besides, I have a feeling you’d call in sick tomorrow anyway.”

Gem bore her teeth behind Grian, he felt bad for the poor selkie. Doc only did this with Grian because he was human.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Grian said softly. “Would you guys be okay?”

Gem nodded slowly to Grian, Scar, and Skizz joining in soon.

He hugged them tightly. “Thanks.”

[hersuniverse]

FIRE&BLOOD - HEADCANON'S

a/n: trying to write while on vacay is hard because all I wanna do is sit back and be lazy, but i'm still gonna try and push something out so here’s this lil headcanon for knight!ellie and targaryenprincess!reader, enjoy luvr’s! (THIS IS NOT PROOF READ!)

warnings: MDNI, book accurate alicent ifykyk, ellie n’ reader have mommy issues, metions of sex(?).

targaryenprincess!reader who’s the second last child to queen alicent and king i viserys.  

knight!ellie who’s a bastard daughter of king borros baratheon and left on the streets of storm’s end.

knight!ellie who’s taken in by fisherman!joel on a stormy night, ever since then she’d stuck around the old man. 

the night was cold and dark, as most nights were in storms end. she sat under a few broken down fish crates that she’d used to turn it into a small shelter for herself. she doesn’t remember much about her mother, just that a few nights after her fifth name day she disappeared. she told her she’d return after running a few errands but she never did. 

her stomach rumbled, the last thing she’d eaten was around four nights ago, the hunger only grew whenever she saw townspeople walking around with crates, satchels and sacs filled with food. she didn’t cry, not anymore, her tears did nothing but take energy she knew she needed so she cut that out a long time ago. she’d huff and curl into herself wondering when she’d have a proper shelter and meal and by the gods it seemed she wouldn’t have to wonder for much longer. 

dawn was approaching, she could tell by the color change in the clouds above, the streets were quiet as people had returned home hours ago to rest in their comfortable beds. the sound of horse hooves running through the street and yelling could be heard, a possible thief though she herself had stolen things from the market she knew better than to judge – but she only really took what she needed. 

that’s when she heard footsteps coming down the alley, headed towards her crate. the person stopped in front of her shelter, she tried pulling herself back into the cover of her makeshift home but she could only go so far with how small the shelter was. she worried it may have been kings guard who came to kick her off the street, but to her luck it was the complete opposite. “well hello there.” the man spoke, he lifted the blanket she’d been using as a makeshift roof. 

frightened, she didn’t answer, just watched him with a hard glare trying to calculate his next move. “What’s a little girl like yourself doing sleeping out here in the cold rain?” his hair and beard were going grey, she kept her guard up as most men usually approached women with intent, usually being rather dark. 

the sound of horses running by could be heard once more “look, the kings guard are searching for someone and i’d hate to see you be taken and wrongfully convicted. come with me, you’ll be safe, i promise.”  she hesitated at first but reluctantly decided to follow him.

his home was small and filled with barrels, she kept her suspicions raised. the man explained that he worked down at the docs, he was a fisherman usually gone for a day or two depending on their catches. he gave her a warm meal, let her take a bath, offered her fresh clothes and a place to sleep – she didn’t know why he did it but she was grateful, a few days would pass before she grew comfortable enough to speak to him. 

she learned that he had a wife who he lost during the birthing of his only daughter, to which he would later lose her too due to a fight that broke out in the streets a few years back. She’d gotten caught between a few bandits and was wounded, he didn’t have the resources to tend to her wound and she died from the infection. he also mentioned that he had a brother who was sent to the wall after rising up against baratheon's law, he was alone. 

maybe she was happy he was alone, she now had someone who understood what it felt like to be alone. she also learned the man’s name that day; joel. 

targaryenprincess!reader whose dragon hatched late and grew rather slow.

young knight!ellie who was saved by a gold cloak in kings landing one day and pledged to one day become a knight. 

knight!ellie who would practice combat in between work days. 

targaryenprincess!reader who hates having her hair done. 

“princess, please!” the handmaiden called as you ran through the halls without a care in the world, you giggled as you ran past the kitchen hands and gold cloaks. “and where do you think you’re off too?” your mother – the queen stood towering over you, your mother frightened you a bit but you wouldn’t let her see the fear she caused you. 

“aemond said he’d take vhagar out for a fly, i thought i’d join him-” She wouldn’t let you finish, grabbing your wrist and dragging you back to your chambers. “aemond has duties to tend to as do you, the lannisters should be here soon. the handmaids will get you dressed and tame that hair of yours.” practically tossing you back into your room, you fell onto the stone floor – thankfully uninjured – she stood at your door. “i will hear no more foolishness from you or your brother.” She left you with your handmaidens. 

You fought against the older maidens whenever they tried to do your hair, inevitably they finally held you down long enough to braid it neatly – it only took about six maidens and possibly a rope as well. 

knight!ellie who gained her eyebrow cut from an unground duel she snuck out to one night. fisherman!joel who cleaned her wound and scolded her for the reckless act.

targaryenpriness!reader who loved watching helaena embroider fabrics, even going as far to earn it herself – failing terribly in attempt and requiring minor medical aid afterwards.

knight!ellie who’s first sword was gifted to her by the local blacksmith who claimed it was for the ‘prince’ but lord baratheon barely bore sons. 

targaryenprincess!reader who named her dragon maelstorm after he’d destroyed part of the dragon pit

knight!ellie who would work the docks instead of the ships depending on the weather – per joel’s demands. 

targaryenprincess!reader who’d observe rhaenyra from a far, too nervous to approach her due to their family feuds. 

knight!ellie who visited the red keep a handful of times to deliver fresh fish for feasts.

targaryenprincess!reader who’d set animals free – usually the horses – to mess with the stable hands and get scolded for it later. 

“The seventh time this moon! Have you no shame?” Alicent paced your room, you’d let around six horses lose this time – two escaping – causing your usual mayhem but this time was in front of the lannisters. Your mother was not happy.

“I’m not sure where the gods sent you from, but to burden my life with you foolish behaviour? I must’ve upset them in my past life.” You didn’t always get along with your mother – hell you were sure you were viserys’ bastard that she’d been forced to take care of – but it’d gotten to a point where you were sure she hated you.

“It was a mere jest-”

“Jest? A joke? You’ve made this whole family look like a joke!” You resided in your room for the rest of the evening. The handmaids brought you dinner which you didn’t touch, helaena visited you, bringing a blanket she’d made for you over the last few nights. 

targaryenprincess!reader who got caught kissing one of the stablehand girls by aemond, he swore to never tell but days later you weren’t able to find the girl anywhere around the castle. 

knight!ellie who began solo travelling across westeros when Joel began to grow ill, giving her a bit more freedom to explore her interest in sword training.

knight!ellie who saved a girl from a few criminals one night, and in return – let’s just say ellie was good at more than just using her hands to wield a sword and catch fish. 

targaryenprincess!reader who bumped into ellie during the celebration of prince daeron’s first name day. 

knight!ellie who didn’t pay much attention to you the first time but started to after running into you years later – you and maelstorm. 

short, sweet and posting this at damn near 3am, absurd i know, but anyways. Still working on part 2 of diet pepsi, i need to curate something perfect y'all please! anyways, uhhh if y'all wanna be tagged for this lil series comment! luv ya!

[phyrestartr]

Those Ghosts We Cannot Burn | Dabi x M!Reader

w/c: 1k cw: past trauma, canon-typical Todoroki family, mentions of child abuse, canon-typical violence, graphic language, difficult relationships #Eventual NSFW, bl, dunno who is top/bottom yet lol, hurt/comfort, angst, drama, reader is yakuza, reader and dabi have history, sorta enemies to lovers?? Notes: AAAAH short little snippet but I wanted to post anyway!! I need to get drafts out of my system or I'll go mad lmao...they're all just clogging up my google docs...it's so bad dude OTL so many WIPs

(ALL tags): @kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

1. Hello, My Past

The bodies of his victims hissed and burned with a life only fire could leave in the path of destruction. Dabi knew it well–he was made the same way, after all. But they'd go on to simply disappear, their ashes fluttering away with the Autumn breeze while he continued to conquer his fate. 

“Hey, you're the one they call ‘Dabi,’ right?” 

The man in question paused, ears perking at that shitty, monotonous tone. Hah. It pissed him off. It made his heart hum, too. Weird.

“Who's askin'?” He drawled, tucking his hands in his pockets as he turned to face you with languid steps. When he caught sight of you in that alleyway, he almost remembered something, but couldn’t find the will to dwell on it.

“I am, on behalf of Shie Hassaikai,” you said, adjusting the cuffs of your jacket. “You've been torching our men, y’know?”

Dabi smiled. “And? You want an autograph or somethin’?” 

You quirked a brow, looked him up and down, and scoffed. “You got a pen? Or, even know how to write in the first place? Don’t look the type.” 

“Oi–”

“Anyway,” you continued, “You wouldn’t be willing to stop murdering ours while our respective leaders discuss their deal, hey?” 

Dabi clicked his tongue. Annoying. “Their deal's got nothing to do with me.” 

“Guess you're not as high up as they said, then.”

“You're a real pain in the ass, y'know?” 

“It's kinda my job.”

“Maybe someone should relieve you from duty.”

A torrent of blue bloomed and crashed through the alley with the vicious hunger of a tsunami. Sparks exploded and flames lashed against stone and concrete, engulfing sky, earth, and all in-between with his show of firepower–a show he never grew tired of, one that never failed to remind him just what he lived for, what he–wait.

He squinted. What the hell?

A bright silhouette stood in the centre of the violent cleansing, wholly unmoved by the villain's flame. It wavered like a candle tousled by the night breeze, but it did not fade away with the light, nor with the wane of fire. And in the aftermath, once the alley fell quiet and dim once again, there it still stood, staring his way with a light that might rival a god's true form.

“You done?” You asked, voice crackling through a veil of blue. 

Thousands of questions and thoughts rushed through his mind–what the hell was that? Who were you? What was your quirk? Why was your fire blue, too?--but he couldn't settle on one, not long enough to spit it out, anyway. 

“I'll consider that a yes,” you decided. Your form re-materialized with a small flourish embers, and you breathed in deep. 

Dabi tried not to let on how bothered he felt. “What the hell was that quirk?” 

“Does it really matter?” You hummed, smiling. “The only thing you need to know is what you just saw–you can't get rid of me. Not with those flames of yours.”

“Hah. You sure about that, pretty boy?” His fingers twitched, eager to try his hand again. “I could crank the heat up for ya, see just how much you can handle.”

“Maybe another time,” you said, half-distracted as you checked your phone. “For now, remember what I said. Our bosses are trying to work together. Don't make this difficult.”

You turned halfway through your thought, showing Dabi your back without a care in the world. You must've really thought you couldn't be hurt by him. You must have really thought you were better than him. You must have. 

But the sirens roaring toward the alley ruined his chance at demolishing you. He could take them on, but he'd rather not deal with the headache that'd follow–heaven knows he'd get reemed by some of the other villains for taking the PR crap too far. 

Fucking prick, Dabi seethed silently. He'd have to kill you some other day. 

–

“Touya,” you called, voice quiet.

The boy next to you, the one you squished into that single bed with whenever nightmares found him, stirred. Only your voice seemed to pull him free from the lull of dreams and nightmares, oddly. 

“Yeah?” He whispered, clearing his throat, grimacing again at the scratchy stiffness to it. 

“Once the doc helps you,” you started, sounding too serious for your age, “I think we should leave.” 

“What?” Touya rubbed sleep from his eyes the best he could without tearing stitches and skin grafts apart. “What the hell is–”

Whatever else he had to say died in his throat when he caught a glimpse of you in the filtered moonlight; your calm, passive look of day had shifted come the night. Your face was kinder, exposing flickers of forbidden thoughts for none but one to see and soon forget, come the beckon of sleep. 

“What the hell's your problem?” Touya breathed. 

Your brows furrowed. “I don't want to be here,” you answered. “Have you even considered trying to go to your family? We could–” 

“I did go back. Nothing's changed.” He smiled, bitter. “Those fucking sheep abandoned me already.”

“I won't abandon you,” you promised suddenly. “We can talk to them. Together. Come on, Touya–” 

Touya laughed a pathetic, little sound. “Are you serious? They don't give a shit about me, they're not gonna give a shit about–do you think you're better than me? More special?” 

Your eyes grew round. “Wh–I never said that.” 

“But you think they'd listen to you, and not me,” he hissed, something igniting the hollow paths of his nerves and revving him back to life. “You think I'm not–”

You covered his mouth with a quick hand, and he held your wrist with a weak grip. “Shut up. You don't know what I think, so–so just shut up.”

I know what you think. And he was determined to prove you wrong, one way or another, even if he had to rip himself apart to do it--but you saw through him so easily. You always did; you always knew how to push his buttons then reset the system before he blew up.

And when you leaned in and kissed the back of your hand, the one still clasped over his mouth, he did indeed reset. Completely braindead once again, he was.

“Forget I said anything,” you huffed, turning your back to him and settling back in. 

And Touya tried to forget, even though his mind buzzed and his heart thudded against his ribs. He tried, and he tried, and he tried.